Mary Poppins From A to Z
by Amie C. Hicks
Summary: An assortment of what will eventually be 26 unrelated short stories, one for each letter of the alphabet. A huge smörgåsbord of Mary Poppins awaits! Rating may change with more chapters.
1. A

**A/N: In 1962, P.L. Travers wrote another Mary Poppins book, "Mary Poppins From A-Z," in which each chapter was a new adventure where things beginning with the chapter's letter would appear. In my take on that idea, each chapter will be based on a word beginning with each letter.**

**None of these will be continuous, so OC names will change from story to story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :)**

**- ACH**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it? It breaks my heart every time... :P**

* * *

Apprentice

_19— London_

"Lily, you have to concentrate, sweetheart." Mary ran a hand through her daughter's dark hair. Are you concentrating?"

"Yes, momma."

Her blue eyes were narrowed and her eyebrows creased in determination as she stared at the large bag of flour set on the kitchen table. Mary was attempting to teach her six-year-old daughter, Lily, how to begin to control her magic. As she and Bert had expected, their daughter had inherited Mary's rather unique talents. They knew soon after Lily's first year; normally young children would cease to be able to understand the language of the wind and the stars, but when Lily never forgot, Mary elatedly told Bert that their little girl was going to need magic lessons. She was up for the challenge; this was going to be incredibly different from nannying, and the fact that it was her own daughter… her heart swelled with pride and love at the thought. They had started out small—no flying just yet, Mary had joked—sending light objects zooming across the room and such, but they had moved past that and Lily's newest task, moving the fairly heavy bag of flour, was proving to be rather difficult for the little six-year-old.

"Momma, nothing's happening," Lily said, unmistakable frustration in her voice. She had been staring at the bag of flour trying to make it float for nigh on ten minutes now with no results, and, as it often is with young children, her ability to pay attention was waning.

"Just give it one more try and then we'll make cookies, alright, darling?"

"Okay, momma!" she said excitedly.

_Works every time_, thought Mary with a smile. _No child can resist the promise of a batch of delicious, warm cookies_.

Lily's eyes moved from her mother back to the bag of flour. She continued staring at it intently, willing with every fiber of her tiny being for it to rise. She still could not access the power within her, however, and the bag merely crept silently across the tabletop. Mary had turned to get the bowl and spoons ready, so she did not see the very full bag of flour as it teetered dangerously on the corner of the table. Nor did she see when its weight, combined with the, albeit minute, force of Lily's mind, finally pushed it over the edge.

The powder exploded as the bag hit the floor. Flour covered everything, and when Mary turned around, her eyes grew wide, but they softened when they rested on the image of her daughter, covered from head to toe in a thick, white coat, hiding from her mother's searching gaze behind her hands.

"What did you do, young lady?" Mary asked, a large smile stretching across her face.

"Nothing," said Lily innocently, clasping her hands behind her back and swishing the skirt of her once blue dress, soft clouds of flour floating off as she moved.

"Really? Are you sure? You wouldn't happen to be lying, would you?" Mary asked, narrowing her sparkling eyes in challenge.

"No…" Lily said, trying to suppress her smile and giggles by attempting to imitate her mother's expression.

Mary bent down to her daughter's height and looked deeply into her eyes; that look that plunged into her heart and saw what was there. Lily knew she had been caught and her giggles finally escaped her.

"I thought so," Mary said with a laugh. "Not a problem, though." She snapped her fingers and the empty bag of flour immediately flew up to the table, the powder itself following suit and returning to its place inside the burlap bag. Lily had seen her mother's displays of magic numerous times, but she still couldn't help but feel awe-struck with every new occasion.

"When will I learn to do that, momma?" she asked eagerly.

"With time and practice, Lily, you'll be able to do anything," Mary replied beaming, her eyes afire with pride.

Bert walked in at that moment and his heart melted at the scene. Mary held Lily in her arms, dropping light kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and nose, while she giggled in hysterics. Mary's eyes connected with his, and she set Lily down and told her to very carefully retrieve the eggs from the icebox for the cookies. She skipped happily away and into the connected room, leaving Mary and Bert, for the moment, alone. Bert approached Mary and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"So, how's the sorcerer's apprentice coming along?" Bert asked with a bright smile.

"She has a long way to go," Mary laughed happily, "but she'll get it eventually. I, myself, only gained full control when I was sixteen," she said, her eyes warming at the memory. "Lily has plenty of time."

"I can't imagine you at sixteen," Bert said, kissing her softly on the lips. "Are you sure you weren't this age and this lovely forever?"

"I am completely certain of that," she said with a laugh. "Now if I will stay this age and this lovely forever… _that_ is an entirely different question." Her lips curled into a beautiful, sly smile and there was a slight pause, the silence broken by Lily humming gleefully to herself as she placed the eggs on the table beside the bowl.

"Are you claiming immortality, Mary?" he said mockingly, but she could see the seriousness evident in his expression. Her brilliant blue eyes twinkled mysteriously as they often did when she had a secret. She looked deeply into his eyes and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"So could you," she whispered with a knowing smile.

She left him gaping at her, mouth open and brown eyes wide, as she returned to Lily's side, mother and daughter laughing merrily as they made cookies together, cracking eggs in the large bowl and mixing them with the flour from the newly restored bag. Lily wiped flour on Mary's cheek, her large blue eyes sparkling much like her mother's. Mary tapped Lily's nose playfully, a luminous smile spreading across her face, leaving a white flour mark where her finger had been. Their musical laughter erupted again and it echoed across the room, creating a light, happy atmosphere that filled their hearts.

Bert looked upon them, the two loves of his life, from across the kitchen and sighed contentedly. Life couldn't get better than this, he knew, and, if his interpretation of Mary's statement was correct, it seemed he would be able to enjoy their love for eternity. That wonderful thought in mind, he joined them at the kitchen table and wrapped his arm around Mary's waist and smiled for joy as he baked cookies with his beloved wife and daughter.


	2. B

**A/N: The London Blitz started earlier, I know, but historically, this day was one of the most devastating for the city, so I wanted to use it. A little darker than what I'm used to, but hey, one can't expect all of these to be happy, haha.**

* * *

Blitzkrieg

_December 29, 1940 London_

An eerie silence fell over the city; it was the time of the new moon and the clouds drifted slowly in the dark, bleak sky overhead. Shadows crept about in every corner in the dim light of the street lamps, giving the streets an unnatural ominous feeling. This was the calm before the storm; and the couple standing quietly outside together knew it all too well.

Mary and Bert Alfred stood in the threatening stillness on the step leading up to their home in the heart of London, their two children fast asleep in their beds upstairs. They spoke little, but their thoughts were racing. For now, they were tentatively calm in the dark of night; Bert's arm was wrapped lovingly around her shoulders and she had snuggled close into his embrace, her head leaning comfortably against his.

"This won't last long, will it?" Bert broke the silence and heaved a heavy sigh, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"All good things must come to an end," Mary said, unable to keep the faint sadness from her voice. She glanced briefly up into the cloudy darkness above and paused. "A storm is coming."

"With this war, a storm is always coming," he replied solemnly.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew down from the sky. It whirled frantically around Mary, its anguished howls echoing in the silent night. Her eyes grew wide and fear, it was a constant companion nowadays, rose within her, but this time it was different; more sinister, more potent, and it was then she knew: the storm had finally arrived. She directed her gaze to the sky, and her eyes saw past the barrier of clouds and far away beyond the confines of the city. Bert followed her gaze and, seeing nothing but clouds, he looked instead into her unfocused eyes. He was startled and frightened at what he saw there; her eyes stared blindly into the distance and shone in the half-light of the gaslights, and he knew that she had seen what was to come.

"They're coming Bert," she whispered. "But… they're not heading for the port this time. They're coming for the city…" her voice trailed off as realisation hit her.

"Mary, take the children and get out of here," he said quickly, taking her by the arm and leading her into the house.

She placed a hand on his to stop him and gazed fiercely into his eyes.

"I won't leave you, Bert."

"I have to stay here, Mary. We knew this day would come. You must go."

"I can't leave you here alone," she said, tears beginning to well in her clear blue eyes.

"Mary, I will never be alone; you will always be with me." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Return only when it is safe. You know where to meet me." He paused and took her hands in his. "Mary, if I'm not there—"

"Bert, don't speak that way. You will be there." Her voice trembled and she placed her hand against his cheek. "You will be there," she said with determination. Mary tried to conceal her fear with an uneven smile, and she blinked back her tears.

"Now, please, go," he whispered.

She swiftly made her way into the house and gently shook the children awake.

"Wake up, James. Anna. Now, hurry. Pack a few things as fast as you can. Go, quickly."

"But, mamma, why?"James asked groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"There's no time to explain, I will tell you later. Now hurry. Please," she said gravely. "As soon as you're finished, wait for me downstairs."

They jumped out of bed and hurriedly obeyed. They ran to their chest of drawers and started throwing clothing into a large suitcase Anna had retrieved from the closet. Mary went to her and Bert's room and packed a few things, and took a final glance around. Tears welled in her eyes again, for she knew in her heart it would be a long time before she saw this place again and was in the arms of the man she loved.

She hastily walked down the stairs, old carpetbag in hand, and found her dear children waiting for her with scared eyes.

"Mamma, what's happening?" James asked, voice trembling. Mary knelt in front of her children and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, trying to remain as calm and collected as possible.

"We have to go away from here for a while," she said, and took a deep breath. "Terrible things are going to happen, and we have to go somewhere safe."

"Are those bad men in the airplanes coming back again?" Anna questioned fearfully.

Before Mary had a chance to answer, the sound all Britons had come to fear suddenly rang through the ghostly silence of the dark night. The air raid sirens reverberated against the buildings, bouncing back and forth getting louder and louder as searchlights scanned the cloudy black sky for signs of the enemy. Bert rushed inside and the door slammed noisily behind him.

"They're here," he said when he saw Mary and the children at the foot of the stairs. "You have to leave."

"But you're coming with us, aren't you?" James asked.

"No, I can't. I have to stay here to help," Bert said delicately.

James and Anna cried and protested, tugging desperately at Mary's coat and trying to plead with her to make Bert come. She looked down at them sadly.

"He has to stay," she whispered calmly. "They need him to stay here."

Suddenly a blinding flash of light followed immediately by an enormous, ear-splitting bang erupted from outside. Bert looked out the window and saw the flames, and more violent blasts could be heard resounding from across the city, and the ground beneath them began to shake. James and Anna cried out in fear and ran to their father. Bert held them both in his arms tightly and kissed them lovingly on their foreheads.

"I will see you soon," he assured his crying children. "Be good for your mother. She will protect you. You will always be safe with her."

"We know," they said quietly in unison.

They nodded in understanding, sniffing and rubbing the tears from their eyes. Bert's eyes drifted from them to Mary and her eyes bore into his, staring deeply into his soul. She continued gazing at him as she ushered James and Anna to her. Her lips quivered slightly as she spoke.

"Goodbye, Bert," she whispered.

"No, Mary. Never goodbye," a few tears finally spilling over his lashes. "Until we meet again." She kissed him one last time and he held her tightly in his arms.

"Au revoir," she said softly into his ear. "Whatever happens… I will always love you."

"You are, and will forever be, my only love, Mary," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "Now, go. Please, go."

She tore her gaze from Bert and looked down to James and Anna as she spoke.

"Hold on tightly," she said to her children. "Whatever you do, stay close to me, and everything will be alright." They looked up at her, tears welling in their eyes, and nodded. James and Anna clung urgently to her sides, each with one hand on their suitcase. Mary held her bag in one hand, while her other was still clasped by Bert's desperately. There were no more words to be said, and they shared a final glance that conveyed every ounce of emotion present in their hearts. She nodded to him and he nodded back, a silent understanding passing between their locked eyes. She never took her eyes off of him, even as she and the children began to fade away. He sensed the pressure of her hand in his wane and finally vanish completely when they disappeared. Bert felt her absence immediately, but he had to be strong without her, for both their sakes.

He looked out the window as the fires raged amidst the buildings and homes. The planes seemed to keep coming, dropping bombs everywhere. Explosions erupted in every corner of the city, as the deafening sirens continued to blare. Bert grabbed his coat and jogged swiftly out the door. The firefighters would need every hand they could get, and he was not about to sit around doing nothing when he could be helping to end this terror. The air itself was thick with ash; the calm had passed, he knew, and all that remained was the ferocious storm; the lightning storm; the blitz. He walked rapidly, and the last thing he saw before turning the corner was the image of St. Paul's Cathedral, rising above the buildings' façade, shrouded completely in smoke. There was nothing lonelier than walking the deserted London streets, however, Bert knew, he may have been alone in body, but in spirit his Mary was always close by, and he was forever grateful to feel her essence glowing brightly within his troubled, aching heart.


	3. C

**A/N: Because that umbrella has to be used for something _other_ than flight :P**

* * *

Cloudburst

_1910 London_

Mary shut the door of Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane behind her quietly as she gazed up into the sky. It was another grey, lackluster day typical of London in November. Though she always carried her umbrella with her, today she was almost positive she would need it; those clouds did not look promising.

It was not her Day Out, but Mr. Banks had decided to take the children with him to the Bank today, and they had eagerly, and happily, obliged. Mary smiled at the thought; she was incredibly pleased that her work here was nearly done. Not, of course, that she wanted to leave, but because it meant that another family had been brought back together, and it was that accomplishment that brought her joy. She sighed half in contentment and half in sadness; she often fell into this mood when she felt her departure was forthcoming. She never liked leaving, that was certain, but she knew it was for the best. Other families would require her talents, and she was more than willing to assist them in their times of need.

She shook herself from her thoughts as she walked swiftly away from the Banks' household. Mrs. Banks had not needed anything to be done around the home, so Mary was free to go and run some of her own errands that had been accumulating. She smiled to herself and again looked up to the sky. _Hopefully I won't get caught out in the storm…_

***

By the time she had covered half the distance to her destination, she had fallen again into her thoughts; though, this time, they revolved not around her or her dear charges, but instead around her secret love: Bert Alfred. She could picture him in her mind flawlessly: the warmth of his eyes; his dark tousled hair; his heart-stopping smile. She loved him with every fiber of her being; that she did know. What she didn't know was how to tell him so.

She continued walking, and unexpectedly she heard his voice coming from an alleyway behind her. She turned to find him, her pulse already skyrocketing.

"Good afternoon, Mary," he said, and then took a quick look around. "Where are the kids today?"

"They're on an outing with their father," she said tenderly.

"Very good!" he exclaimed. "So you're free for the day?"

"Yes, I am," she replied. "I'm on my way into town so I can catch up on some errands."

"I just finished up m'self," he said. "If you don't mind, may I join you?"

"Of course you may, Bert," she smiled.

He grinned amiably and walked beside her, keeping up with her quick stride. Her glance made its way up to the sky again; it had become even more grey and miserable since she left the Banks house.

"Looks like a bad storm is coming," he said, following her gaze.

"It does, doesn't it?" she said gloomily.

"Can't you… you know," he made a flowing gesture with his hand through the air.

"Even my power cannot drive these dreary clouds away," Mary sighed.

As if deliberately mocking her, the heavens suddenly opened and rain fell in sheets from the large grey clouds. The downpour became heavier with every passing second, and within a few moments, they were both drenched to the bone. They searched almost desperately for shelter, only to realise that Mary's relatively small umbrella was their only refuge from the rain. She opened it quickly, and they stood dangerously close to each other beneath the parrot-headed umbrella; Mary could feel Bert's warm breath against her cheek. They averted their eyes from the other and an uncomfortable silence stretched between them; they had never been this close to one another alone before.

She had turned her head to stare out at the rain, but Bert was staring rather overtly at her. She smelled of toast and roses, and she looked lovely, even though she was soaking wet. His heart swelled to an enormous size as he looked at her, love radiating from his eyes. He fought his desire to turn her toward him and kiss her, choosing instead to be as gentlemanly as usual. He, by no means, wanted to force her into a relationship, despite his everyday longing to feel her arms around him and her lips on his. He sighed audibly, moving his eyes from her and out to the pouring rain.

***

They were standing incredibly near one another and, though she was composed on the outside, her heart was pounding within her chest. His aura washed over her and she could feel her every nerve ending burst into flame. Her love for him encompassed her entire being and she knew if she allowed it, she would do something she was certain she would later regret. To prevent her sure mortification, she turned away from him to look out at the rain. She felt the spine-tingling rush that told her his eyes were upon her, and she almost gasped at the sheer strength of its energy. Mary's thoughts were speeding through her head, and she was trying to decide what to do. Her heart told her to turn back to him and confront him about these feelings. Though she could not completely read him, she had enough insight into his mind to know that he felt _something _for her. She hoped that his feelings for her matched hers for him, and though she knew the only way to find out is to ask, her courage faltered and her heart tumbled every time she looked into his deep brown eyes. _I could lose myself in his eyes…_

***

_I could lose myself in her eyes, _Bert thought. His mind had wandered to her again, and he could envision her in his head perfectly. He'd memorised her features long ago—every last detail—for the times when she would leave London for another post. Since the day he met her, he'd known there was something different about her. Not just in the obvious sense that she possessed a power far greater than anything he could imagine, but in the sense that she _felt_ different to him. He had never met someone who affected him in the way she could. She had already captured his heart, and he would give it to her willingly, if only she would ask for it; and it was his deepest, dearest wish that she would offer her heart to him in return. His longing for her suddenly overwhelmed his senses, and he took a deep, steadying breath to control it. He could not go on like this much longer, he realised, so he quickly made up his mind. He had to know.

***

"Mary?"

"Bert?"

Their voices rang out in unison as they turned toward the other, blue eyes immediately meeting brown.

"You go first," Mary said politely.

"Oh, no, please. I insist," said Bert.

This went back and forth for a few moments and the awkward silence returned, broke only by the sound of the still pouring rain. Instead of looking away, however, they continued gazing deeply into one another's eyes. If it were possible, they seemed to have gotten even closer to the other; Bert's hand was now resting on her hip and one of hers was pressed against his chest, each with one hand supporting the umbrella. Their eyes moved from the other's eyes down to their lips, and their faces were slowly drawn together by some unseen force. Their lips touched tentatively; neither knowing exactly what to do, but the spark that ignited within their hearts told them that it was right. The kiss was brief, but the love that was conveyed through the connection raced straight to the depths of their very souls. They soon pulled apart, both surprised by the intense electric current that ran through them at the intimate contact. They gazed at each other in wonder, neither really knowing how to continue. After a slight pause, Bert grasped her hand in his and spoke softly.

"Is that what you wanted to say?" Bert asked her.

"Yes," she softly replied. "Is that what _you _wanted to say?"

"Yes."

"I'd hoped so," Mary answered.

"Me, too," he said.

Bert had drawn her to him again, both now completely dry, and it was only after a few blissful moments of becoming acquainted with the other's lips once more that they noticed the rain had stopped, and sparkling rays of the sun were beginning to peek out from behind the diminishing grey clouds.

"It seems your power could clear the sky, after all," he said with a chuckle.

"I couldn't have done it without you," she said truthfully, closing her umbrella and holding it securely in her left hand.

"You'll never have to do anything without me," he said, a tinge of hope present in his voice. "If that is indeed what you wish."

"Yes," she said, looking up into his eyes lovingly. "I wish that."

His smile grew immensely and he took her free hand in his own as they walked together through the streets of London, heading toward the center of the city where they would complete Mary's errands, hearts brimming with love, and eyes bright as the newly uncovered sun.


	4. D

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! This one is pretty self-explanatory… haha; a look into the love (or temporary lack thereof) of George and Winifred Banks.**

**Based mostly (if not entirely) on the musical's take on their relationship. Again, I've skewed the timeline a bit; instead of Act II taking place over the course of a single day, let's imagine that there was some considerable amount of time between Mary's return and her final departure.**

* * *

Distance

_1910 London_

The house was strangely warm this night and Winifred Banks could not figure out exactly why, though she had a faint inkling that it had something to do with the unexpected (but not unwanted) return of Mary Poppins and the extremely abrupt and mysterious departure of Miss Andrew. The Banks' household had been more cheery and alive while Mary Poppins was in it, so it was not such a far-fetched idea that it was she, indeed, who was responsible for the home's sudden change in vitality.

Winifred sighed and shook away her thoughts; she had more important things to dwell on than the nanny's arrival, however fortunate a circumstance it was. She wandered slowly into the drawing room and, after pulling the curtains over the window, sat on the powder blue chaise lounge against the wall. She placed her head in her hands, closing her eyes, and massaged her temples; she could feel the beginnings of a migraine behind her eyelids and she could sense that this one was going to be particularly agonizing. Her mind began to drift to the concerns that nagged her and she could not restrain a hopeless sigh. She'd been feeling exceptionally alone as of late and now so more than ever, what with making yet another mistake with Miss Andrew. She just couldn't seem to get anything right, and it bothered her incredibly. The growing distance between her and her husband was not helping, either. She was only trying to please him, but no matter what she did, it always failed to catch his attention… at least, his positive attention. She feared that the love they once shared had all but disappeared, and she felt completely lost; Winifred didn't know what to do.

She leaned back into the soft cushions of the chaise and drew her hands from her aching head, letting them drop slowly into her lap. Winifred suddenly heard hushed creaking coming from the staircase and, if she strained her ears, she could hear a faint humming drifting over the air. She stood quietly and walked to where the room opens up to the rest of the house, looking out into the foyer to see who was there.

Mary Poppins was making her way down the stairs, her eyes faraway in thought and a small smile on her face. Upon reaching the main floor, she took her parrot-headed umbrella from the stand where she had left it earlier and swiftly turned with a swish of her skirts to go back upstairs to the nursery.

"Mary Poppins," Winifred said, the sound of her own voice taking her by surprise. She took a tentative step out of the shadows, her mind frantically trying to find something to say. _Perhaps she can help me, _she thought. _She seems to know everything else…_

Mary stopped and turned again, taking the few steps down to the floor.

"Yes, m'm?"

"May I have a word with you? Privately?"

"Of course, m'm."

Mary quickly entered the room, the lights immediately brightening ever so slightly, and stood by the fireplace, umbrella still in hand. Winifred followed her in at a slower pace and sat on the chaise.

"Would you like to take a seat?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Mary replied politely. She paused and her voice softened. "Did you need something?"

Winifred looked down at her laced fingers and then back up to Mary, trying desperately to keep her raging emotions in check in front of the cool, calm, and collected nanny. She smiled sadly to herself and lowered her head again without saying anything.

"This is rather serious," Mary said delicately, seeing through the other woman's mask, drawing the nearby brown ottoman in front of Winifred and sitting daintily on it, crossing her legs and placing her bare hands in her lap. "Is there any way I could help?"

Winifred chuckled slightly and shook her head. "Well, unless you could somehow…" she shrugged with a sigh, her hands grasping the air for a word, "…magically bring George and I back together, I don't think there is anything you can do."

"I doubt I will be of much assistance, then," she replied, the mysterious sparkle in her eye glowing a little brighter, though Winifred did not notice. "But I can listen."

Winifred smiled appreciatively and nodded, playing absentmindedly with the gold ring on her left hand as Mary set her umbrella beside her on the floor.

"As I'm sure you've noticed, George and I aren't exactly… on the best terms, as it were." She paused and looked at Mary, whose warm blue eyes encouraged her to go on. "It has been getting steadily worse over the years, but recently it has taken a rather dreadful turn. I'm not entirely certain what happened; it may have been my reluctance to join his upper-class friends, or perhaps it's all the mistakes I've made or my unwillingness to sever ties with my old life—"

"If I may interrupt, m'm, I don't think his attitude toward you is due to anything you may have done."

Winifred's head snapped up and she looked Mary in the eye.

"You don't?"

"No," Mary said, shaking her head slightly. "From what I can tell, he has many problems to sort out, none of which are thanks to you. Frankly, I believe we can thank that Miss Andrew for most of them." Mary sniffed in disdain and her hands clenched imperceptibly in her lap. "Horrid woman."

"The way he spoke of her, one would have thought her to be a godsend!" She slowly lowered her head again. "I wish he would have told me…"

"M'm, he is a man. Men rarely speak of their feelings openly," Mary said gently, her lips pulled in a knowing, and slightly frustrated, smile. "You can trust me on that."

Winifred nodded and smiled slowly.

"I just keep remembering when George and I first met and how happy we were. I can only hope that he will remember those days and realise that I am here for him always."

"If I may ask," Mary began, "how did you two meet?"

Winifred's smile grew as the memories came back to her.

"It was a brilliant summer day. Well… night, rather; and we were both so young…"

***

The sun was shining bright in the clear London sky and a cool breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. The sweet smell of summer was in the air, and Winifred Atwell took a deep breath and smiled; _today is going to be a wonderful day, _she thought. _I can feel it._

She was walking with her friends to the theatre where they worked; they were all actors in a new play and it was almost call time, so they were in quite a rush. Her long blonde hair shone gold in the sun, and her radiant blue eyes were glinting with happiness. She loved her job; she loved the people, she loved the rush of being onstage; she loved everything about it. Winifred smiled to herself; she was lucky to love going to work every day.

Upon arriving at the theatre, she quickly changed into costume and applied her makeup, never missing a beat in the fast-paced chaos of backstage. She was so used to the orderly disorder that it didn't faze her anymore; now she never expected anything less. Time passed quickly and she was soon thrust onstage, falling into her character and having a wonderful time doing so. _It doesn't get much better than this…_

The show went off without a hitch and she found herself in line with the rest of the cast taking their final bows. Her eyes wandered and she scanned the audience; _you never know who might be in attendance, _she thought. She couldn't see much past the first three rows, but as her eyes flew over the audience, they suddenly connected with those of a handsome young man in the second row. He had lovely blue eyes and dark hair, and a luminous smile was stretched across his face. He gazed at her mesmerised, and she could not take her eyes from him; no one had ever looked at her like that before. They stared at one another for what felt like several minutes, but the voice of one of Winifred's friends snapped her out of her trance.

"Win, come on!"

She reluctantly drew her gaze from the man's and took a few steps back, joining the rest of the cast, so the curtain could fall. She giggled as she saw his head turn, following the curtain down so he wouldn't lose her face. She waved at him and his smile doubled, and when the curtain hit the floor, she allowed a full smile of her own to cross her face, thoughts of whether or not she would see him again already beginning to unfurl in the depths of her mind.

***

The next night, Winifred spent the entire performance taking furtive glances at what she could see of the audience, looking for the man from the previous night. She could not find him, but the butterflies fluttering about in her heart would not cease. The show went by in a haze and it flowed by swiftly; her mind was in another place and she could not shake the man from her thoughts.

After the performance, she quickly changed and prepared to leave for the night to return home with her friends. As she opened the stage door, she saw a pair of bright blue eyes gazing expectantly at her, and her heart leapt into her throat. She blinked in shock and smiled, looking back at the man with keen interest.

"Hello," she said politely.

"Good evening," he said cheerfully, tipping his hat to her. "How are you this fine summer night?"

"Quite well, thank you," she replied. "And you?"

"I am doing rather well myself," he said with a smile. He gazed down at his feet for a moment. "Miss… Winifred Atwell, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's me," she said, extending a hand to him. "And you are…?"

"George," he answered, taking her hand and shaking it amiably. "George Banks."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, George."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, his smile widening. His smile became suddenly shy and he looked into her eyes again. "I…"

"Yes?" she urged him on.

"I don't suppose I could interest you in tea tomorrow? Perhaps sometime around four?"

She was only slightly surprised at his forwardness. They _had _just met, after all. But something about him made her trust him regardless of that fact, and she grinned at him warmly. _Why not give this a chance?_

"I would be delighted."

His smile took on a new light and he gazed at Winifred in pleasant surprise.

"Really?"

She laughed and placed a hand briefly on one of his.

"Yes, really. Meet me here at four, alright?"

"Yes, four, I'll be here."

She smiled again and nodded to him as she turned to take her leave.

"Goodnight, George Banks."

"Goodnight, Miss Atwell," he replied.

He watched her walk down the street with her friends until he couldn't see them anymore, and only then did he turn to walk back to his home. He whistled the entire way, the light in his eyes even brighter than before. He hurried to his house, for he needed his rest. George Banks had a big day ahead of him.

***

Mary Poppins smiled when Winifred laughed happily to herself.

"I remember he told me how frantic he was trying to find something nice to wear for tea," she said. "He tried so hard to impress me. If only he knew that he had caught my eye the moment I first saw him."

Mary's smile grew slightly and the twinkle in her eye brightened.

"I certainly know how that feels," she said quietly.

"George came to the show seven more times after that. He would take me out to tea nearly every day and we soon became great friends. One night, a couple months after we had started seeing one another, he stood at the stage door with a rose in his hand. When I walked out, he handed it to me and I blushed so red, my cheeks could have rivaled the rose in colour," she chuckled softly. "That night we shared our first kiss. It was so beautiful and it was everything I had hoped for; and I realised that night that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. It was another year and a half before we were married, but following that… the rest is history, as they say."

Mary's smile dimmed a little at her next thought.

"So once you were married, he started working at the bank."

"Yes," Winifred sighed. "He became so immersed in his work, trying to make his father happy, that he forgot his family and repressed much of who he was when I met him. I watched from the side, allowing this distance to grow, never interfering, though I feel now that I should have. I should have said something... I should have done something. I just hope it's not too late to save him from himself. I just hope… I hope that things will soon be the way they once were." She gazed down at her clasped hands and let out a heavy, downhearted sigh. "Mary Poppins, what should I do?"

Mary quietly rose from her seat and stood in front of Winifred.

"It's not my place to say, m'm," she replied gently. "You must make that decision for yourself." Mary bent down and looked Winifred in the eyes, a golden locket hanging delicately from a chain around her neck. "But… anything can happen if you let it."

Mary straightened and turned to leave, holding her umbrella securely in her left hand.

"Do you really believe that?"

Winifred's voice was soft and hopeful, and Mary stopped a few feet from the entrance to turn back around, a comforting glow in her eyes.

"With all my heart," she said quietly. She paused briefly and nodded. "Goodnight, m'm."

"Goodnight, Mary Poppins. And thank you."

Mary smiled reassuringly at her and Winifred could already feel the weight begin to lift from her shoulders. She returned it with her own relieved smile and Mary nodded, taking her leave for the night, and returned to her sleeping charges in the nursery above. She spun on her heel, the lights dimming slightly on their own as she left the room, but Winifred did not notice; she was deep in her own thoughts once more and dwelling on what Mary had said and replaying her memories in her mind, smiling to herself in warm nostalgia. She was resolved to bridge the distance between her and her husband; she would not allow this detachment to prevail and, though she knew not how, she was going to try to bring them together again as they once were.

Mary's advice ran through her mind as she walked up the stairs, taking care to be as quiet as possible. She had a new air of confidence about her and she felt as though things really _were _going to get better. She reached her and George's room and she paused with her hand hovering tentatively over the knob. She took a deep breath and smiled, knowing she was being silly. _Anything can happen if you let it, _she thought self-assuredly as she opened the door. _Anything can happen…_


	5. E

**A/N: I like knowing things. I'm pretty sure Bert would, too. E is for Exception, but it is also for Explain, which is what Mary does here, in part. Successful relationships are deeply rooted in honesty, and I thought it was about time she started with that, hahaha :P**

* * *

Exception

_1910 London_

Mary Poppins was moving so swiftly about the nursery that it seemed she was a human whirlwind. It was finally her Day Out, and she was attempting to get in a last few mundane tasks before leaving for the afternoon. There was not a tabletop left undusted; a bed sheet left un-straightened; a toy left on the floor. Outwardly she was as cool, calm, and collected as ever, though in her mind she was a little more distracted than normal. Despite being excited to see Bert and spend the afternoon with him, she could not help but feel slightly nervous. She was not nervous of anything he would do; she knew he was the perfect gentleman and always had been. She was nervous of what she had chosen for herself.

Nearly every time she and Bert spent her Day Out together, he would ask some rather probing questions, but she had been consistent and stood firm, never giving anything away. She would always skirt around the inquiry, changing the subject to something less vulnerable, and he would let it go, a knowing smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. After many sleepless nights due to a raging internal battle, Mary had decided to hold nothing back this time. She was tired of hiding from him, and she knew deep in her heart that she was in desperate need of someone to understand her. She needed _him _to understand her.

Mary buttoned her black coat and nodded determinedly to herself. Whatever he asked her, she would answer with nothing but the truth.

***

Bert wandered through the London streets, gazing up at the blue afternoon sky. The sun shone brightly on this fine spring day, and he was looking forward to his outing with Mary Poppins. He always thoroughly enjoyed their time together; she meant everything to him, and he knew without her, his life would be as dull and grey as the clouds that usually covered London.

They always met in the park, and today was no exception. He sauntered up the path toward the statue of Neleus; it had been their meeting place for years. He leaned against it casually, giving the stone dolphin's head a pat and greeting Neleus with a cheery smile, and waited for his darling Mary to arrive.

***

She looked exceptionally preoccupied when she came into view on the path. Her fingers kept playing with the head of her umbrella, and the spark in her eyes had dimmed a little. Bert instantly became concerned; this was not the Mary Poppins he knew so well. He'd never seen her that anxious before.

She approached him and immediately snapped out of her haze. She smiled cheerfully at him, and he returned it wholeheartedly. He offered his arm to her and she took it with a soft laugh, and together they walked down the path and deeper into the newly green park.

"So, how are you this fine day, Mary?" he asked amiably.

"Quite well, thank you, Bert," she smiled.

_Liar, _he thought.

"And you? I haven't seen you since my last Day Out," she continued.

"I've been rather busy, actually. Business has been good these past couple o' weeks."

"That's great!" she said sincerely, looking over to gaze into his shining eyes.

Their small talk ensued for quite some time as they maintained a constant pace in their walk through the park. They had somehow ended up on the topic of family, and Bert was now explaining to Mary how his parents had died when he was a teenager, which was why he had been thrust into the working class so early in his life. She expressed her sympathy, but he shrugged it off.

"Oh, it's alright. I had to get over it years ago. And this is really the only thing I can see myself doing, anyway. I love what I do, and that is enough for me," he said, and she nodded in agreement. "What's your family like, Mary?"

She subtly tensed, but Bert's keen eyes could perceive it. He had always asked her about her life, but she had never before responded. He never expected her to, actually, since she never explained anything at all, so when she didn't avoid his question, he was more than a little dumbfounded.

"Well, as you can imagine, we're all… quite different," she said. "Many of my cousins live here in London, which is why I try to stay so close, though a good number of my relatives are fairly transient, as well."

"Like you," Bert said, finally finding his voice.

"Yes, like me," she replied.

Questions started forming in his head almost immediately. She seemed like she was going to finally open up to him, and he was not going to miss this potentially once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Why do you travel so much? One would think that you'd want some kind of stability, wouldn't you?"

"I travel because I _have _to," she said. "There are people out there who need what I can offer, and who am I to deny them? I do what I do best and what I love, much like you, Bert."

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you nanny?"

"I love children," she said simply. "I love piecing families back together. I love helping people."

"Would you ever have children of your own someday?" he asked quietly.

She paused momentarily before answering.

"I certainly hope so," she said. "I just have to find the perfect man." They had stopped walking and she turned to look into his eyes.

"What kind of man is the Great Exception looking for?" he asked, discreetly stepping closer to her.

"Please don't call me that, Bert. I've never liked it, to be honest."

"Why not?" he asked, retreating back to his original position.

"It makes me sound so incredibly… untouchable. I am already different enough from my family, and even more so from you, so why must it be called to everyone's attention?"

"But you said your family was different, too."

"But not like me," she said softly. "They all have their quirks and certain abilities, of course; you've seen Uncle Albert," she said with a somewhat disapproving sniff, and he chuckled quietly. "But no one in my family is quite like me. I hold an incredible power, Bert; and even I do not know its true extent, but I… I fear I will forever be known only for that. I want to be known for me," she paused. "I want someone to truly know who I am."

"I know you," he said quietly.

"Bert, I've never told you anything. How could you possibly know me?" she asked sadly, a regretful glint in her eye.

"Here now, I know more about you than you think I do."

"Oh?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. I know that you pretend to know everything so you don't have to deal with questions. I know that you are extraordinarily strong-willed, almost obstinate at times. I know that you've seen many things that you wish you hadn't, and sometimes they grip your mind and heart and refuse to let go. I know that you love and care deeply for every child you've taken on as your charge, no matter how hard you try not to become attached to them. I know that you put up a very strong front, but that behind the mask you are just as self-conscious and vulnerable as any other person. I know that you're a lot older than you look, though by how much, I'm not exactly sure. I know that you feel that you're not really of this world…" his voice trailed away, as if trying to decide whether or not he was going too far.

"Yes?" she asked, shocked, and slightly pleased, that he had perceived that much about her. Taking a deep breath, he continued slowly.

"And yet, it is one of your greatest wishes to be so. You want to be like everyone else. I've seen it in your eyes; in your face. I've heard it in your words." At this, he set her umbrella down on a nearby bench and took her gloved hands delicately in his own. "But Mary, to be perfectly honest, I love you just the way you are, and I would have you no other way."

Her head snapped up, and she looked deep into his eyes, trying to discern the truth of his statement. He gazed back at her, eyes warm and clear, hiding nothing. Satisfied with her judgment, she looked down at their joined hands.

"Would you like to know a secret?" she asked softly.

"Yes."

"I've already found the perfect man," she whispered.

"Who's the lucky fellow?" he asked, the barest trace of a smile beginning to stretch across his face.

She looked back up into his eyes, her own shining with a brilliant, joyous light.

"You."

His smile grew immensely and he moved one of his hands to her cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb. He gripped her other hand a little tighter, and he took a furtive glance around them. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he looked at her quizzically.

"I assume it has something to do with you," he began, "so why is it that whenever we're alone together in the park, no one else ever seems to be around?" He shifted his flirtatious brown eyes to meet her icy blue ones. She flushed slightly and hesitated before answering.

"In case… in case we ever…" she stammered, her blush intensifying, along with the look of irrefutable desire in her eyes.

"In case we ever what?" he asked, his voice soft and low, face mere inches from hers.

"Did this."

Before he could formulate his next question, she boldly placed her lips against his. She was intoxicating to him, and he quickly lost himself in her love. Their arms wrapped around one another as their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. His mouth left hers and he dropped fiery kisses on her neck, her cheek, her jaw, and finally he returned to caress her lips again. She sighed into his kiss, pulling him against her, both wishing in their hearts that these feelings would never cease. All good things must come to an end, however, and when they could no longer carry on, they parted on a heavy sigh, breaths shallow and cheeks glowing red.

A mischievous smile spread across his face as he looked into her captivating eyes. "I thought you were prim and proper? Practically perfect in every way?"

She leaned in toward his ear and he could feel her breath on his neck.

"I can make an exception," she whispered low.

The new tone of her voice sent irresistible shivers down his spine and he took her face in his hands again and kissed her with all the passion and love in his being. She responded instantly, and they stood in one another's arms, the sun shining bright above them. Their happiness soared; he would at long last be able to hold her as he had so often in his dreams, and she… well, she would finally have what she had always wanted: someone to love who would love her in return for who, and what, she was, for now and evermore.


	6. F

**A/N: This is based on the Miss Andrew segments of the second book and the musical, with a few lines borrowed from each.**

**In this case, fury is both an outburst of anger and also a "wild force; a state of excited or frenetic energy." Not to mention that the Furies in Greek mythology were the goddesses who punished the wicked… ;)**

* * *

Fury

_1908 London_

Mary Poppins was in between assignments for the time being, and she had decided to spend this day walking in the warm late spring sun with her dear friend, Bert. He had the day off, as well, and he had left the city with Mary for an afternoon of conversation and shared company in a large wildflower field to the south of London. They thoroughly enjoyed one another's camaraderie, and this day was no different. She had temporarily dropped her prim and proper persona; there was no need for formalities when it was just her and Bert.

They walked together arm in arm through the field, chatting happily about their past adventures, the current happenings of their lives, and their hopes for the future. Though neither brought it up, both of their preferred futures included the other by their side; both, however, were also too shy and nervous to bring their feelings into the open, so, once again, their hidden love remained just that.

They continued onward in the field, finally coming across a small circular clearing in the shade of a few rather large trees, where a small white wrought iron table and two chairs were set up with a full proper tea resting atop it.

"You always think of everything, don't you?" Bert asked her with a smile.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Oh, yes, of course," he said with good-humoured sarcasm. "This has _always _been here. And we just happened to stumble upon it. Lucky us."

"Lucky you for being friends with me," she said laughingly, the lighthearted glow in her eyes brightening.

"Ah, so you'll admit it then?"

She paused and gave him a mock stern glare, then sighed in happy defeat.

"Alright fine, I admit it. But only because you're my dearest friend."

"Say it."

"Must I?"

"Say it," he repeated, drawing out the first word in a foolish sing-song voice.

She took a seat at the table while he stood staring playfully at her, tapping his foot against the ground in lighthearted impatience.

"If I must, I must," she said with another sigh. "I, Mary Poppins," she gestured dramatically at herself, "have produced this fine tea for us to enjoy together—"

He interrupted her with an amused snort and he smiled triumphantly.

"And," she said, a teasing gleam in her eye, "I can take it away just as easily from silly chimney sweeps who insist on playing childish games with me."

"Alright, alright…" he grumbled quietly, making his way to the table. "Bloody witch."

"I beg your pardon?" she said, eyes shining. "I most certainly am _not _a witch."

"What are you, then?" he asked, the slightest hint of flirtation weaving its way through his voice.

"I am practically perfect in every way, thank you!"

"Oh. I stand corrected, then."

They laughed together as she poured the tea.

"And _you _are a fool," she smiled. "But a delightful fool, I confess."

He flashed her a brilliant smile when he took his cup and she returned it merrily, taking a sip of the warm amber liquid, her eyes sparkling happily in the afternoon sun.

***

Their peaceful outing was soon interrupted by the loud, and almost frantic-sounding, chirps of a flustered brown lark that had flown recklessly from the reaches of the field and was now hovering hysterically above the center of the table, wild trills and notes filling the air.

"Goodness, slow down; I can't understand a word you're saying."

Mary's eyebrows were furrowed with concern as she listened intently to the lark, Bert looking on in wonder. It gestured a wing toward the far end of the field, notes climbing higher in distress, and Mary and Bert could just barely make out the black shape of a woman carrying a large net and a cage coming their way. The lark let out a shrill cry.

"Did she?"

Another trill.

"Well, not while I'm here. Stay by me and you'll be fine."

The lark seemed to let out a relieved sigh and it perched comfortably on Mary's shoulder, nestling against her neck in gratitude.

"What did he say?" asked Bert, finding his voice.

"See that woman over there?" Mary asked quietly.

"Yes," he replied.

"She is trying to capture this poor lark and stuff him into that cage she's carrying."

"Oh," Bert answered. "Well, we can't let that happen, can we?" He stroked the lark's head tenderly.

"No, we cannot."

They stared on into the field as the black shape became larger and more distinct as she came closer to them. They could soon make out her huge stature, beaked nose, grim mouth, and small, beady eyes that peered angrily at them even from a distance. Mary could already begin to sense the stirrings of unease in her heart and she had a feeling that this confrontation would result in her doing something she might later regret. Her control was renowned far and wide, but even Mary Poppins, practically perfect though she was, sometimes lost her temper…

***

The woman was dressed in all black and her long skirt brushed the ground as she walked briskly toward Mary and Bert. She must have been burning beneath her large coat, and her jet black hair was tied back and there was a white streak on either side. Her pale skin looked even paler against her black clothing, and her lips were pulled into a dark scowl.

Upon the woman reaching the table, both Mary and Bert rose, he backing up slightly, having noticed Mary's sudden stiffness. He knew this wasn't going to be good.

"Have you seen a brown bird come speeding by here?" the woman asked rudely, setting her cage down and grasping her giant net tighter in her large hand. "It was a lark."

"I saw nothing," Mary lied, her voice sweet and an even sweeter smile on her face. "Perhaps you should try over there?" She pointed in the opposite direction of the field, and placed her hands on her hips.

The woman in black gazed at Mary suspiciously and the lark on her shoulder suddenly peeped in fear, and her gaze was drawn immediately to it.

"There's the lark!" she shouted, giving Mary an accusatory glare. "What do you think you're protecting?"

"His freedom," Mary replied calmly, but with enough force in her voice to show she meant business.

The woman forced a laugh and gave Mary a horrible, sinister gaze.

"As if an incapable youth such as yourself could ever stop me."

Mary raised one of her flawlessly arched eyebrows in challenge.

"Oh?"

"I'll just be taking that little bird on your shoulder, _if _you please," she said rudely, starting to reach out her hand to grasp the lark.

"You'll not take him," Mary said evenly, moving her hand to defend the frightened lark.

"Excuse me?" she stopped in her tracks.

"You will not take him," she repeated, enunciating each word with sharp precision.

"You young, foul, impertinent woman; you forget yourself! Who do you think you are?" she shrieked.

"I'm Mary Poppins," she responded haughtily. _Foul, am I? Impertinent am I? We'll soon see about that._

"Humph," the woman snorted. "Like that means anything to me."

"You happen to mean nothing to me, Miss Euphemia Andrew, so we're even, it seems."

She stared at Mary in shock, dark eyes wide and mouth hanging open, her pointed nose wrinkled in alarm.

"How did you know my… who are you?" she asked again, a slight fear beginning to creep into her voice.

"Don't make me repeat myself," Mary said tersely, narrowing her eyes in annoyance.

Miss Andrew snorted again and looked Mary in the eye, her fear now gone, having been replaced with rising anger. She looked Mary over and her eyes drifted to Bert, whom she hadn't seen until now. She took in his subtly ragged appearance and he looked at her awkwardly. She gave an arrogant laugh, folding her arms across her chest in self-importance.

"Young people these days," she said smugly, looking Mary in the eye again, provoking her. "A _proper _woman would never be seen with a man of a class beneath her own. And a _proper _woman would never be alone with any man without a chaperone."

Mary could sense the malice behind Miss Andrew's gaze, and she could feel the cruelty burning within her black heart. Euphemia's offensive and hateful thoughts drifted over the air and Mary heard them; and something within her suddenly and without warning snapped. Her irritation transformed into fury and it erupted, the power she usually kept in check breaking free from its bonds and coursing through her veins, her icy blue eyes beginning to glow with an eerie, otherworldly light.

***

Bert, who was still standing a safe distance away off to the side, noticed Mary's change in demeanor instantaneously. He had seen her irate before, but _never _had he seen her like this. He realised that he really didn't know what she was capable of, and, from the way her entire body seemed to tremble slightly—whether from her rage or from the sheer strength of the power she was restraining, he wasn't sure—he was certain she was capable of a _lot _more than anyone had ever given her credit for. He took a quick glimpse into her eyes and was alarmed at what he saw. They held none of the kindness and love he was so used to; her eyes now held an almost feral look and a beautifully petrifying sparkle of such intensity that he'd never before seen. He knew now, without a doubt, that he did not want, in any way, shape, or form, to be caught in this crossfire. He motioned to the lark, and together they silently crept into the shadows of the nearby trees, hiding safely behind the largest trunk, every so often cautiously peering out to watch.

***

The sky had abruptly grown dark and the winds picked up, whirling around Mary and blowing stray tendrils of her hair out behind her. Speaking slowly and distinctly in a quiet, implacable voice, Mary stood calm and unafraid, fixing Miss Andrew with her most terrible, spell-binding gaze.

"You don't know the big mistake you've made, Euphemia Andrew."

"The mistake _I've _made?" she shrieked, apparently completely oblivious to the unnatural change in the weather. "How _dare _you speak to me like that!"

She waved her net menacingly as if to strike, but the glow in Mary's eyes spread to the rest of her body and she shone with a bright golden light. The wind now blew wildly in the trees and the sky had become even darker than before. The black-clad figure of Miss Andrew began to rise slowly into the air, and Mary held her a few feet off the ground, her arms pinned to her sides and feet dangling.

"I—I can't move!" cried Miss Andrew in a terrified panic. "What are you doing?"

"You will not insult me or my friend ever again."

"I promise!"

Mary's glow intensified and Miss Andrew rose a little higher into the air.

"You will forget this entire ordeal ever happened when you find yourself in London. You will not know how you got there. You will not know where you were, understood?"

"Yes, yes, I understand. Please, let me go!"

"Pray you never meet me again, Euphemia Andrew."

With that Mary waved her hand brusquely and Miss Andrew disappeared in a flash along with her net and cage. Where she once floated in midair, nothing remained, save for a puff of wispy grey smoke billowing in the wind.

***

The wind had returned to the mild breeze it had been and the sky became blue and sunny once more. Bert and the lark poked their heads out from the side of the trunk and, deciding that the coast was clear, slowly emerged from their hiding spot behind the rather large tree. The bird sat in the branches as Bert tentatively approached Mary, she jumping slightly when he placed a hand on her shoulder, her glow swiftly diminishing as she took deep, calming breaths.

"Not a witch, eh?" said Bert gently, a laughing twinkle in his eye.

She blushed profusely and placed her head in her hands.

"When I get truly angry, something just comes over me…"

Bert moved his hand from her shoulder and wrapped it carefully around her waist, standing beside her providing comfort and support.

"Her heart is cold as ice and made of stone," Mary continued. "It's not what she was saying that set me off, Bert; it was what she was thinking. I wasn't about to allow her to slander you so." She hesitated, her blush deepening. "I lost my temper."

"Indeed you did," he replied with a reassuring smile, rubbing her back soothingly. "Now let's just hope you never lose your temper at me."

She turned to look at him and she gazed deeply into his eyes, judging the seriousness of his statement, a little hurt that he would even begin to think her capable of such a thing.

"I could never do anything like that to you."

"Anything like _that? _So, what, would you set me on fire? Send me halfway across the world to the jungles of India? Turn me into a frog?"

"Oh, will you just hush?" she said, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Make me," he said boldly, staring fearlessly at her retreating form.

Her head whipped around to gaze at him, her blue eyes glowing once again, this time not with rage, but with some strange emotion that Bert could not identify.

"Alright, perhaps I will," she said as she approached him.

"Oh? And what are you going—"

Bert never got to finish his question, as Mary had pressed her lips audaciously against his in a passionate kiss. He responded immediately, placing his hands on her hips as she placed hers against his chest, pulling him to her by the lapels of his red vest. Her hands crept up to his cheeks and around his neck and she deepened the kiss, both their hearts ablaze with an explosive mixture of love and desire. They broke on a sigh, gasping for breath, Mary completely flushed and Bert's cheeks reddening, as well. Her eyes were still on fire and the flames in them were reflected within the depths of his own.

"I think I rather like this wild side of you, Mary," he said breathlessly.

She, too, was out of breath, and her fervent gaze met his.

"Only for you, Bert. Only for you."

He pulled her to him for another fiery kiss and she ran a hand through his dark hair, holding his black hat in the other, as his lips continued to ardently caress hers. They separated smiling, she laughing happily and he beaming at her carefree exuberance. He had never seen her like this, so uninhibited and free, and he was finding himself feeling quite grateful for Euphemia Andrew's sudden appearance. His brilliant smile grew as he took Mary by the hand and led her back to the table, where he was almost certain that their tea, still piping hot, would be waiting for them.

***

Little did Mary Poppins know, but Miss Euphemia Andrew, despite having forgotten the incident in the field entirely, returned to that same grassy meadow a few days later to capture the bird she had so required for herself. The lark she imprisoned she named Caruso, after the opera singer, but he soon ceased to sing, having been cooped up cruelly in a small brass cage.

For two years he would continue thus, locked in his cage and not free in the skies, until the day Euphemia Andrew and Mary Poppins' paths would cross again at the home of one Jane and Michael Banks.

Had Miss Andrew remembered her encounter with Mary Poppins in the field that day, perhaps she would not have stepped foot anywhere near the Banks' household. Perhaps, also, having already come to their home, she would have fled as soon as Winifred Banks mentioned that Mary Poppins had been the nanny before her arrival. Perhaps, when she stayed despite that knowledge, she would have known better than to blatantly insult Mary and threaten the children upon her unexpected return to Cherry Tree Lane.

But Euphemia Andrew did forget, and she did end up at the Banks' home, and she _did _meet Mary Poppins again.

It seems Miss Andrew just didn't pray thoroughly enough.


	7. G

**A/N: I was looking at my family tree when this idea popped in, hahaha.**

* * *

Genealogy

_2008 Pensacola, Florida_

Kristen Perry was an agile climber and always had been. She'd been climbing trees for as long as she could remember, and despite nearing her eighteenth birthday, she still reveled in the feeling of being high in a towering tree's branches, looking down at the rooftops of the houses that made up her small, but pleasant, home. Her backyard was gifted with an extremely large black walnut tree, and it had been (and still was) the place she withdrew to when she needed to be alone.

She had just heard the news that her sister would be returning from college soon, and she knew nothing good would come with her. They had never gotten along, _and we never will_, she thought with a sigh. Her sister Diane was two years older than her and was a pre-med sophomore at Yale. Needless to say, especially being the firstborn, she was pretty much perfect. Kristen's parents always expected her to be just as perfect as her sister, always failing to realise they were not the same person, and that many of the things Diane could do, Kristen could not, and vice versa. Diane's shortcomings were overlooked by their parents, however, while her own were made blaringly obvious and often exaggerated. She almost always felt inadequate, despite succeeding in nearly everything she set her mind to. She simply couldn't live up to her parents' standards, it seemed. This was one of those times, and Kristen had just barely escaped to her haven in the trees.

She sat in the top branches, staring into the endless sky, the faint salty smell of the ocean wafting over on the winds. She just allowed her mind to roam, trying to forget who she was and, if only for a moment, pretend she was someone else. She sat that way for a long time, and when she had calmed down sufficiently, she began her descent. Typically she wouldn't have had a problem, but today she was more distracted than usual. She wasn't paying attention, and with one slip of her foot and a twist of her ankle, she fell.

***

Kristen's adrenaline started pumping furiously, and what were in reality mere seconds felt like whole minutes. She could feel the air streaming past her face and her dark brown hair flying out behind her, tears in her eyes from the sheer speed at which she fell. She was too petrified to make a sound, and she closed her eyes tightly to brace herself for what she believed would be her final moments as she plummeted toward the Earth. The wind roared in her ears and she could see her life flash within her mind; random moments from her childhood, from school, from vacations, all merging together to form the mosaic of her short existence.

Suddenly her entire body tingled with a strange and intense warmth, and it was only then that she realised the wind was no longer rushing in her ears, and the tears that stung her eyes had disappeared. She opened her eyes slowly, thinking that she had already died, expecting an endless sea of clouds or a huge gold gate or _something_; expecting anything _but _that which she saw before her.

She was still at home in her backyard, but the most peculiar thing had happened. Kristen had stopped falling about two feet from the ground, and it was there that she now hovered in mid-air, with absolutely no idea of how it was possible, let alone if she was making it happen. The tingling warmth beneath her skin abruptly and without warning vanished, and she ungracefully dropped the rest of the distance to the ground, hitting its solid surface with a crash.

"OW! Holy mother—" she cursed loudly and clutched her side in pain. She sat straight and rubbed a small bruise she could feel forming below her elbow. Kristen sat on the ground in a stunned haze, more freaked out than excited. _What the hell is going on? _She thought frantically. _These things obviously do not happen regularly._ _Something must be terribly, terribly wrong with me._ Kristen's thoughts continued thus for a while: halfway between berating herself for her newfound, incredibly abnormal ability and intense confusion. _There is no way this is normal… this has to be a fluke. I can't do this… can I?_

She finally rose from the grass and sprinted to the back door and it slammed behind her with a loud bang, her mother yelling at her from the kitchen.

"Do you mind, Kristen? I'm making dinner and the news is on!"

She ignored her and continued upstairs to her room. She passed Diane's still empty room and entered her own with an extremely upset sigh. She lay down on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore and dissolve her complete and utter fear and confusion regarding the beyond weird things that had happened to her. The cool early evening breeze drifted in through the open window, and her purple curtains fluttered wildly. Kristen opened her eyes in irritation and made to go close the window, but the wind suddenly picked up and burst into her room, sending papers flying everywhere. _Like this day couldn't get any worse! _she screamed in her mind. She closed the window forcefully and turned slowly around to survey the mess the wind had made of her room. Papers were scattered all across the floor, and the photos and posters hanging on her walls had come undone and were folding over themselves. She took a long, deep, unhappy breath, ran her hands through her dark hair, muttered a few choice words, and began to clean.

After twenty minutes of picking up papers, Kristen was still nowhere close to being finished.

"There has _got _to be an easier way of doing this," she said. She cursed the wind for its impudence and continued going about her cleaning. She stacked papers in neat piles, placing them precisely where they had been before. Her hand closed over the last piece of paper on the floor, and when she turned it over, she did a double take; she had forgotten she had this. Kristen stared at it for a moment, tracing the elegant script with her index finger. She had never taken much interest in her family's past, but her father had insisted that she have a copy of the family tree anyway, saying something about how the past shapes the future and how she would have to live up to the family name. _No pressure, right? _she had thought darkly. There was always pressure; pressure to be like her flawless sister, pressure to be the best, pressure to be, well… perfect. She laughed scornfully as she scanned the names on the paper, not really caring, but finding herself curious nonetheless. Her eyes stopped on a pair of names four tiers above her own, and her jaw dropped in absolute disbelief. _That cannot be possible._

***

She stared at the names, hands trembling, and everything started to become clear, though thousands of questions raced though her head. _Why would nobody know? Why would no one talk about that? One would think that would be an enormous deal! Is it a family secret? Or do we truly not know about this?_ Kristen needed answers, so she, paper in hand, rushed downstairs to the kitchen to find her father. It was _his _side of the family, after all.

"Dad?" she asked tentatively, suddenly nervous about what he would say.

"Yes, dear?" he said inattentively, without looking up from his newspaper.

"Um… you know great-great-grandfather Herbert?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Well… um… did you know his wife?"

He looked up from his paper and stared at Kristen with a strange look in his eye; gazing at her as if she had lost her mind.

"His wife?" he asked slowly.

"Yes, right here," she put the paper down on the kitchen table and pointed at the spot where the name in question was. He gave her another glare.

"Great-grandfather Herbert never married. There's nothing there, Kristen, and there never has been. You're pointing at blank space."

Her face contorted in shock; mouth agape and blue eyes wide as saucers.

"Are you sure you don't see anything there?" she asked, her voice starting to waver slightly. Her mother had joined them now and was looking at the paper, as well. She received an odd glare from her, too.

"The only names there are his and his adopted daughter, your great-grandmother. He never married, Kristen. You knew that." Her mother paused momentarily. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I—I'm fine," she stuttered. "I'm just gonna go lie down for a bit."

Kristen swiftly ran up the stairs and back into her room and flung herself onto her bed. She stared at the paper; half terrified and half in awe of it. She was the only one who could read upon it the name of her great-great grandmother. She was the only one who could see the name of perhaps one of the most famous, and apparently not-so-fictional, women in the world; only Kristen could see the little dash connecting the words Herbert Alfred to her name: Mary Poppins.

***

Kristen couldn't take her eyes off of that name. She couldn't believe it to be real; that she, the klutzy, foolish, scared-out-of-her-mind girl was directly descended from _the _Mary Poppins. Well, she could only assume it was the Mary from the books and such, taking into consideration the fact that she suddenly could do things she had only dreamed of previous. There could be no other explanation. _But why now? _she thought. _Why now, when I could've used it so many times before?_

It suddenly dawned on her and she felt incredibly stupid for not realising it sooner. _I fell out of that tree, and if it hadn't been for these powers, I would've died for sure, _she thought. _This magic saved my life. _It had revealed itself only when she was in the direst need. Now that she was aware of it and had had a while to adjust to the new feelings within her and accept them, she had never felt more at ease with herself or comfortable in her own skin. She felt good; really good. It was as if she had finally found that something that could fill the empty space she had always felt within her heart. This magic completed her; it made her who she truly was.

***

After dinner and a few successful attempts to fly again, Kristen sighed happily and stared out her window as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky. She marveled that just a few hours ago, she had been falling out of trees, and here she was now, feeling the warmth of an unknown power course through her veins.

Kristen had often been told that she had her mother's brilliant blue eyes; her grandmother's dark, shining hair; her grandfather's stubbornness; her father's dry sense of humour. But this talent she had somehow inherited was something far larger than a smile or a skill; her great-great-grandmother had bestowed upon her the confidence with which to grow, and something incredibly special that she could truly call her own.

She looked up to the sky, hoping that, wherever she was, she would hear her.

"Thank you," she whispered, a true smile gracing her lips for the first time in months.

Though she could not yet sense it, a star in the heavens above shone a little brighter than before and, if she had listened closely enough, she would have distinguished a woman's musical laughter floating on the whispers of the wind and in the silver light of the full, vigilant moon.


	8. H

**A/N: I'm a psych major, so I know a lot about hypnosis (I have put a few people under, myself… bwahaha) and I figured it could work very well in this case.**

**All the hypnosis stuff here is based on my own experience with it; I'm an awful subject (too analytical, I'm told, haha), but what I mention here are some of the suggestions that I've used on my own subjects and that a professional I know has used with his.**

* * *

Hypnosis

_1910 London_

Jane and Michael Banks were skipping happily with lollipops clutched firmly in their hands down the London streets with Mary Poppins following closely behind, the bags containing the day's purchases in her arms. They had spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon shopping in the city, and Mary, having been in a rather benevolent mood today, had bought them both some candy.

They had begun to chase one another down the street, laughing loudly in between licks of their lollipops. They ran past the storefronts, the colourful signs and awnings swinging in the wind, and Jane suddenly stopped, Michael nearly crashing into her, to look at a giant poster that was pasted to the side of a bookshop. Her mouth was open wide and her eyes were shining with interest and awe.

"Oh!" Jane called. "Look, Michael! Hypnosis!"

The poster had an enormous black and white photograph of Sigmund Freud, holding his black, circular glasses on the bridge of his nose. The poster was an advertisement for a lecture he was to be giving at the University on psychoanalysis and, that which had caught Jane's eye, hypnosis. Michael read it with awe and looked back at Jane.

"I wish _I _could control people's minds…" he said wistfully.

Mary sniffed indignantly behind him and they both turned to look at her.

"Controlling other people's minds," she sniffed in annoyance again. "Really."

A sparkle shone in Mary's eye that was lost on the children; not a look of disgust as her statement suggested, but rather a look of knowledge. Mary Poppins, you see, knew what it was like to _truly _have insight into someone's mind, and inside she was laughing at the notion that Freud thought he had it, too. _If only he knew, _she thought amusedly.

"Isn't that what hypnosis is, Mary Poppins?" asked Jane.

"Not in the least," she replied.

"Then what is it?" Michael wondered.

Mary gave him a glare and he knew he would not be getting an answer. He shrugged and turned back to Jane, waving his finger back and forth in front of her face like a pendulum, she following it with her eyes.

"You're getting very sleepy," said Michael dramatically. "Very, very sleepy…"

Jane slumped her head over and pretended to snore, but both she and Michael were giggling loudly, Mary tapping her foot against the ground impatiently.

"What _utter _nonsense," she said, rolling her eyes and clutching the bags closer to her chest.

"What is, Mary Poppins?" asked Jane.

"Hypnosis is not sleeping, either," she replied.

"Then what _is _it?" asked Michael again insistently.

She opened her mouth to answer, but then seemed to reconsider and shook her head.

"Why am I discussing this with you?" Mary pondered aloud.

"Oh, do tell us, Mary Poppins!" pleaded Michael.

"Yes, please!" implored Jane.

She gave them a long, hard look and they returned her gaze earnestly, eyes bright and eager with excitement. Looking back on it, she wasn't quite sure why she conceded, but concede she did. She sighed inaudibly and set the bags briefly down on the ground.

"Hypnosis is when you are extremely relaxed and open to the suggestions of others," she said. "You can see and hear and smell things that aren't really there, but you cannot be forced to do anything against your will. Your mind is entirely in control, not the person doing the hypnotising."

Jane and Michael stared at her in surprise; they hadn't _actually _expected her to respond.

"What?" Mary asked, her blue eyes narrowing. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're explaining things," said Michael.

"So?"

"You never explain anything!" said Jane.

Mary looked at them incredulously and her eyes grew wide.

"Do you want to know or don't you?" she snapped. "It seems to me you don't really want me to tell you anything at all."

They shook their heads vigorously and shut their mouths, eyes pleading with her to go on. She sniffed and continued.

"You concentrate so hard on something else that you can be led to believe that you're experiencing things that aren't actually happening. But you have to be willing; if you don't _want _to do it, you won't."

"How do you know all that?" Jane asked, awe-struck.

"I know a lot of things, Jane," Mary replied with a superior sniff.

"So… could you hypnotise us?" asked Michael hopefully. Jane nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"Certainly not! I have no intention of making a spectacle of myself, or the two of you, for that matter, thank you!"

By this point Jane and Michael were jumping up and down with excitement pleading with her incessantly. She picked up the bags, holding them in the crooks of her arms, ignoring them. She began swiftly walking again back toward the Banks' house as Jane and Michael jogged in front of her and blocked her path.

"Mary Poppins, will you?" they asked imploringly. "Please?"

If she paused, it was barely noticeable and she continued with her swift pace. Mary smiled faintly to herself and a bright sparkle entered her eye; _I suppose it couldn't hurt…_

"Well, don't just stand there," she said curtly, striding between them with a firm glance. "If you expect me to drop everything and hypnotise you in the middle of the street, you are sadly mistaken. We will get to the nursery first, if you please."

Jane and Michael shouted with exhilaration and they ran ahead, their nearly depleted lollipops all but forgotten in their clenched hands. Mary shook her head with a smile and adjusted the bags in her arms, watching them skip ecstatically down the road. _Oh, the things I do for these children, _she thought lightheartedly.

***

They passed through the park to get back to Cherry Tree Lane, and as they were walking they ran into Bert, who was finishing up his chalk drawings for the day.

"Why, hello there, Jane and Michael!" he smiled at them and shook each of their hands congenially. "Hello, Mary," he said with a small, fond smile, tipping his hat to her politely.

"Hello, Bert," she replied, her lips pulled into a lovely smile, as well, and a twinkle alight in her eye.

"Mary Poppins is going to hypnotise us!" shouted Michael.

"Oh, is she now?" Bert asked, gazing into Mary's eyes to confirm the statement.

_What have I gotten myself into? _she thought laughingly. Her amused look conveyed that much to him and he chuckled.

_You did it to yourself, Mary_, he thought back to her. She smiled when she heard it and she nodded.

"I know, I know," she said aloud and Bert smiled.

"You know what, Mary Poppins?" asked Jane, confused, as she and Michael could not perceive their silent exchange.

Bert laughed merrily again and placed a hand on Jane's shoulder.

"She knows a lot of things," he replied. He paused, looking Mary in the eyes again, and he grinned largely. "I do believe I'm going to go with you to watch the show."

Mary rolled her eyes as she looked at him.

"If you're going to be a nuisance, at least be a helpful nuisance. Here, take one of these."

She handed Bert one of the large bags in her arms and he took it, winking playfully to her as he did. The four of them briskly walked back to the Banks' house, Mary and Bert talking casually, Jane and Michael silent, but very near to bursting with anticipation.

***

Upon putting away the day's purchases and eating dinner, they finally made it up to the nursery, and Jane and Michael could barely stay at rest. They were pacing back and forth across the nursery floor, their minds and hearts racing with eagerness. Bert was sitting on a chair in the corner keeping an eye on them while Mary was in her room hanging up her coat and getting ready. When she returned to the room, Michael and Jane suddenly stopped pacing and they stood closely to one another, practically bouncing from their giddiness.

"You two are going to have to calm down if you want this to work," Mary said. "I have absolutely no control over this; it's all up to you."

Jane and Michael visibly composed themselves, slowing their breathing and ceasing their bouncing, but their eyes still contained that thrilled gleam. Mary set a chair in the middle of the room and turned to them as soon as they were calm.

"Who would like to go first?"

Jane and Michael exchanged a glance and they nodded.

"I'll go first," said Michael, his excitement beginning to rise again.

"I'd rather watch, anyway," Jane said with a mischievous gleam in her eye, giggles erupting from her throat. "I want to see Michael do funny things."

Mary gave Jane a reproachful glance and she immediately silenced, keeping her face straight, though her eyes were still shining humourously. Mary turned back to look at Michael and she instructed him to take a seat in the chair and get comfortable.

"Alright, then; Jane you'll have to be absolutely silent during this, understand?" Jane nodded and Mary looked accusingly over her shoulder to Bert. "You, too, Bert." He nodded with a laughing smile as Mary turned her head back around. "Now, Michael, just lean back and close your eyes…"

"Don't you need to swing a clock back and forth or something?" he asked.

Mary stared at him disbelievingly.

"Whatever gave you _that _idea?" she sniffed. "You don't need a dangling watch to focus, thank you! Now close your eyes."

He did so and as he was calming down more, Mary was speaking to him quietly, her voice strangely soft and soothing, urging him to relax and clear his mind; to focus on himself and only himself, and to allow her voice to guide him. His breathing was soon even and deep, and, though he was not asleep, it certainly seemed that he was. When Mary deemed he was ready, she gently leaned over to him and, in the same soft voice, spoke.

"Michael, when you open your eyes, the number six will no longer exist. It will have simply disappeared from your mind and the numbers will go straight from five to seven."

She then tapped his shoulder and his eyes opened slowly, he not looking tired at all; in fact, he looked quite awake, but his eyes held a slight faraway quality within them that suggested to Bert and Jane that part of him was focusing intently on something else that they could not see.

"Michael? How are you feeling?" Mary asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Good," she replied. "Now, Michael, I want you to count on your fingers to ten."

He nodded and held out his left hand.

"One," he said, ticking it off on his index finger. "Two, three, four, five, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven."

He stared at his hands in shock and then to Mary, and then back to his hands again. He counted them again, quicker this time, but he _still _got eleven.

"Mary Poppins, something isn't right," he said, voice trembling slightly. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what was wrong.

"Yes, something isn't right. Bert, you see, has stolen your missing number, and he is holding it right now. If you ask him nicely for it, I'm sure he'll give it back to you."

Michael stood and approached Bert, looking at him with an extended and expectant hand, and pleading eyes.

"Bert, may I please have my number back?"

Bert looked over to Mary and she nodded, and Bert extended his arm with a closed fist, and he dropped the "number" into Michael's hand. Michael was elated and he held his clenched hand to his heart.

"Now try counting, Michael," Mary said.

He tallied on his fingers and counted six this time, and he hopped up and down a bit when he reached ten correctly.

"Yes, six was missing! I _knew_ somethingwas wrong!" he said.

Mary told Michael to sit down again and he did, and Jane was staring at him in disbelief. Mary reached into the pocket of her white apron and pulled out a crisp new five pound note. She grasped it taught between her fingers and held it out for Michael to see.

"Michael, this here is a one thousand pound note."

"But, Mary Poppins, there's no such—" Jane began, but she was promptly cut off by an immensely severe glare from Mary, and she closed her mouth at once, Bert placing a hand on her shoulder to shush her, as well.

"This one thousand pound note," Mary continued, moving her gaze back to Michael, her eyes again soft and encouraging, "is yours."

He made to reach for it eagerly, but she pulled her hand back before he could take it.

"However," she said, "this note is exceptionally hot. In fact, it burns to the touch."

"Then how are you holding it?" he asked her. "Why isn't it burning you?"

"It wouldn't dare," she said, and left it at that. Mary placed the note on the floor in front of the chair. "If you can somehow grab it, Michael, it's yours to keep."

"Really?" he asked her, his eyes bright.

"Yes," she replied.

He smiled triumphantly and rose from his chair, walking to the center of the room and bending down close to the floor, extending his hand over the note, allowing it to hover above it as if testing the air for the supposed heat. When he felt none, his smile grew and his hand clasped around the note.

"Ow!" he shouted painfully, and he quickly retracted his hand, blowing on his fingers. "That's burning hot!"

"Didn't I say as much?" Mary asked.

Michael glanced at her with a determined fire in his eye and he bent down to collect the note again. He tried grabbing it hastily and bobbling it between his hands, but it was still too hot for him to handle and it fell from his grasp, drifting lazily back to the ground. Michael sighed in frustration and he looked around the room and his eyes rested on Mary's white lace gloves that she had set on the mantelpiece.

"May I borrow one of these?" he asked her.

"You may," she nodded.

He stood on his tiptoes and reached as high up as he could, and clutched one of her gloves in his hand. He slid it on and it was fairly big for him, but it served its purpose. He made his way back to the note and picked it up easily, and he held it aloft victoriously in the air. Upon returning to his seat on the chair, he held the note closely as if to protect it. Mary told Michael to relax again and she guided him back into the undisturbed, trance-like state. She spoke to him softly once more, but the process was in reverse, she leading him out of his concentration and into awareness, and when she tapped his shoulder this time and he opened his eyes, he looked completely energised and fully conscious of the world around him.

"Michael, how are you?" asked Mary.

"I feel great!" he replied.

"How long do you think you were out for?"

"Oh, it must've been an hour, at least!"

Jane giggled behind her hand and she could hold herself back no longer.

"Michael, it's been no more than twenty minutes!"

Michael stared at her incredulously and he finally realised what was now gracing his hand.

"Why am I wearing your glove?" Michael shouted, taking it off hurriedly (and slightly embarrassedly), handing it to Mary, and dropping the five pound note in the process. "And where did that come from?"

"Do you really not remember, Michael?"

"Remember what?"

"What you did!" said Jane.

"It felt like I was dreaming," Michael said. "I don't remember doing anything."

Jane turned to Mary and looked at her with concern.

"Mary Poppins, is this supposed to happen?"

"Yes, Jane, it's perfectly normal. People coming out of hypnosis rarely, if ever, remember their experience."

"Oh," Michael said.

Jane went on to animatedly tell Michael (with much exaggeration) what he had done and his eyes grew wide and he giggled along with her as Mary reached down to retrieve the now forgotten note from the floor. She placed it securely in her pocket and turned to Bert, who was watching the children with a wide grin. She approached him and looked down at him, hands on her hips.

"You should get going," she said. "I have to put them to bed soon before they get too boisterous again. It's my Evening Out, so I will meet you at the usual place."

Their eyes lingered on one another and after a moment Bert nodded. With a wink at her a cheery farewell to the children, he opened the nursery window and carefully and skillfully made his way up to the Banks' roof. Once Mary was certain he was safe, she approached Jane and Michael and placed either hand on their backs, leading them over to their beds to get ready for the night. Despite their previous energy, they both had suddenly become very tired, and they stretched their arms and yawned largely as they quickly changed for bed. Once comfortably in their pajamas, Mary tucked them in tenderly beneath the covers and they smiled at her.

"Thank you, Mary Poppins," Jane and Michael whispered to her, their eyes swiftly closing and soon falling into a deep and steady sleep.

_Anytime, _Mary thought, a warm smile tugging at her lips. _Anytime…_

***

Mary shot up the chimney in no time and she was shortly high on the rooftops, looking out upon London and the sparkling stars above. Bert was waiting for her, sitting on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the side. She straightened her purple coat and sat down on a ledge beside him and his eyes lit up, an enormous grin illuminating his handsome face.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, turning slightly so he could look at her better. "They seemed to enjoy themselves enormously."

"Indeed they did," she replied with a quiet laugh. "It felt good to do that, to tell you the truth."

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"I am always using my magic," she answered quietly. "It's nice every now and again to do something by more… common means."

"But I like your magic," Bert said.

"Don't get me wrong; I love being able to snap my fingers and make anything happen," she smiled mysteriously, "but sometimes I yearn for some normalcy, as well."

"Well, let me help you," he said.

"How do you propose to do that?"

"Well, if you have it in you for another go," he said, "how'd you like to hypnotise me? Just for fun?"

She looked at him with slight trepidation and she gazed into his eyes.

"Are you sure? You won't remember any of it if I do. And you won't do anything that you wouldn't usually do in your normal state," she assured him.

"Yes, I know. C'mon, Mary," he smiled cheerfully, a slightly mischievous look in his eye that Mary caught, though she could not discern why it was there.

She hesitated for a moment, but finally relented.

"Oh, alright," she said. "But sit over here; I don't want you falling off the roof."

He moved from the edge and sat where she had been sitting on the much safer part of the roof and he rested his chin in his hands, supporting his elbows on his knees.

"You ready?"

He nodded and smiled. She smiled back and she did the same thing she did with Michael; he closed his eyes and she directed him through his consciousness, and very soon he was deep in concentration, and for the moment, unresponsive.

Mary thought desperately of what to do. She could give him simple suggestions; having him believe that water was actually tea and the like, or having him see an object that wasn't truly there, but she suddenly realised that those were all rather juvenile. There was only one thing she could think of that she would have Bert do (or not do, as she feared), and after many silent, pensive moments she made her decision. _He won't remember this after, _she thought, _so_ _it couldn't hurt to try…_

Mary gathered up her courage and took a breath, letting it out on a sigh, and looked back at his trance-like form. His breaths were long and even and she thought he looked adorable even in the half-light of the gathering dusk. She wondered if she really wanted to know if this was something he'd normally do or not, and she hoped with all her might that it was.

"Bert," she said quietly.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her awaiting instruction.

"I would like for you to… for you to…" she stumbled over her words, trying to figure out exactly how to say what she wanted to tell him. She cursed her cowardice and, taking another determined breath, spoke quickly. "Kiss me."

Her heart nearly leapt from her chest when he stood up and walked over to her, pressing his lips against hers without any hesitation. She knew it was wrong to take advantage of someone's openness while under hypnosis, but she couldn't help herself and she soon found her arms around his neck and her lips kissing him back with a fervor she could no longer deny. His hands had surreptitiously crept to her hips and around her waist and he held her in his warm, loving grasp. Lips still ardently locked with his, she felt his movement and she separated abruptly from him, looking into his eyes and seeing not the concentration and distance of one in a hypnotic state, but found instead that he was very much aware of what was going on and that the look of love and passion in her eyes was mirrored within his own. Her cheeks turned an incredible shade of scarlet and she tried to explain.

"Bert, I—I… I thought you were hypnotised!"

He shrugged and smiled; that same mischievous gleam in his eye.

"I was playing along. I've done this before and apparently I'm not as susceptible as others are." He removed his hands from her waist and crossed them over his chest, a playful smile still on his face. "It seems, though, that _you're _the one who we needed to worry about pressing her advantage; not me."

Her blush became even more profound and she allowed her hands to fall limply to her sides as she looked awkwardly at the ground; she had been hoaxed.

"You weren't going to remember and I just wanted to see if you would do it," she said quietly, the faintest hint of regret sneaking its way into her voice.

"But that's not very fair, now is it?"

"Oh?"

She looked confusedly into his eyes again, beginning to dread his response.

"Yes," he replied and he took her hands in his and pressed them against his heart. "It's not fair because I would like to remember the first time I kissed you."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she fumbled desperately for words.

"I—I'm sorry?"

"I would like to remember the first time I kissed you," he repeated a little softer, his brown gaze still connected to her blue one.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath and blinked slowly.

"Because I love you." The straightforwardness of his answer shocked her immensely, and her heart swelled to a tremendous size within her chest. Her blue eyes were wide and her lips were parted slightly in surprise and she could not shift her gaze from his. He chuckled at her state and placed a hand gently beneath her chin. "Do you still want me to kiss you?"

She held her breath briefly, a hint of desire gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes."

His lips were against hers in an instant, and she closed her eyes and let out her breath on a blissful sigh, a spark igniting within her heart that traveled along her every nerve. In all her life she'd never felt more alive and, despite her fears of completely losing control, she found herself rather loving the feel of Bert's lips against hers and of his hands against her skin. She could lose herself in him and, she thought, his world was a place where she would not mind getting lost.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she deepened the kiss, his passionate responses nearly sending her heart hurtling over the edge. Her thoughts were racing wildly through her head, and one of them was quite clear to Bert, though she had not expressed it aloud. It was in her kiss and in the very air around her, and his heart beamed at the sheer strength of it:

_I love you Herbert Alfred, _she thought vehemently._ I love you…_


	9. I

**A/N: I wish nothing ill upon Gavin Lee's marriage, but for the purpose of this fic, let's pretend that he's not married. I just think that they'd be so cute together... haha.**

* * *

Improvise

_October 5, 2008 New York_

She walked across the stage in silence, the heels of her now well-worn boots clicking against the black lacquered floor. _This is the last time I'll do this here_, she thought, surreptitiously taking a good look around the stage and what she could see of the house. _This is the last time I'll sing this song._ These thoughts had been entering her mind all evening, despite her rather desperate attempts to keep them at bay. Ashley Brown and her co-star, Gavin Lee, would be leaving their nearly two-year run in Mary Poppins on Broadway tonight, and she couldn't help but already feel its acute loss nagging at her heart.

By simply looking at her face, however, one would never have guessed these thoughts were racing through her head. She was all smiles, close to the end of her final performance of the show-stopping number Anything Can Happen alongside her adopted family. She never broke character, no matter what she was thinking, and tonight was no exception. Her airs of grace and authority perfectly masked her actual clumsiness and endearingly childish tendencies, _and, _she thought with a smile, _the coat certainly helps make me feel the part. _As the song ended, she shared a quick glance with Rebecca Luker and Daniel Jenkins as they exited with the children. They furtively smiled at her, and Ashley's brown eyes exuded warmth and happiness; they were a true joy to work with and she would miss them terribly.

Ashley turned her eyes toward the man onstage with her, and the warmth in them took on a new dimension. She had always liked Gavin; from the moment she met him when she was whisked away to London after leaving Beauty and the Beast, she had felt something connect between them. Their chemistry onstage, although subtle, was unrivalled, and they both believed that it stemmed from a complete trust in the other, and a deep, caring friendship.

She watched him as he painted his last bouquet of flowers, and she slowly approached him as he set down his brush. They recited their lines for the last time, imbuing them with as much feeling as they possibly could. He triggered the trap and took out the flowers from his painting, handing them to Ashley as she gazed into his eyes. _Something is different with him tonight_, she mused. _Something doesn't feel the same…_

She looked down at her feet and looked back up to him, as she always did. _Here it is, _she thought. _This is the last kiss; the last goodbye; the last flight. _

"Look after yourself," she said to him softly, meaning it this time in more ways than one. She would miss him most of all, and she was surprised at the slight waver she hadn't hidden from her voice.

She walked slowly up to him and his eyes held a strange light that she could not recognise. Little did she know, the same look was mirrored in her own eyes. She placed her right hand on his left arm, and the unexpected spark she felt at the contact shocked her, but she did not allow it to faze her. She leaned her head to his right cheek and kissed it softly, and as she was about to pull away, Gavin suddenly turned into her kiss and the moment she felt his lips on hers, the world stood still. His hand was against her cheek, though she did not remember him moving it there. New, powerful sensations exploded within both; excitement, happiness, and not the least of them, love. She pressed her lips against his more passionately, and he returned it with equaled heat and fervor. The kiss only lasted seconds, but it felt as if they had spent a lifetime in each other's arms. They were abruptly (and both would admit later, unfortunately) jolted back to reality when they heard the thunderous applause and cheers of the audience—they had completely forgotten they were onstage. Ashley was stunned and she turned a deep shade of red as she took a few small steps away from Gavin; he smiling bashfully, with an embarrassed, and slightly triumphant, gleam in his eye.

_The ball's in your court now, Ash. You have to improvise, _he thought with an inward laugh. The look in her eyes told him clearly that he had caught her off guard.

Ashley knew what she had to do, and she quickly regained her outward composure and looked Gavin straight in the eye.

"I daresay you were pressing your advantage, Bert," she said calmly, with a hint of lighthearted sternness present in her musical voice.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, looking deeply into her eyes, apology written visibly on his face.

Ashley smiled in her mind and allowed a fraction of it to appear on her face, taking a step toward him and moving the flowers from her right hand to join the umbrella in her left.

"Don't be." She placed her now free hand against his cheek and gave him a look that spoke of love and longing. "Goodbye, Bert."

With that, Ashley turned and walked away slowly toward center stage to finish the scene, the melancholy first notes of the finale drifting over the air from the piano. She could feel Gavin retreating offstage behind her, though whether or not he was smiling, she did not know.

Tonight, of all nights, these words meant more to her than they ever had before. Her job here was finally complete and it really was bittersweet; but she also knew that she couldn't stay forever and that they would have to get along without her there, no matter how much her heart desired otherwise. Her heart now, however, was whispering to her of different desires. Gavin's astonishing kiss had stirred within her feelings she had never before experienced, and she wished somewhere in the depths of her soul that he was feeling the same thing.

"There." She straightened out the sheets on Jane's bed till it was as neat and tidy as it was wont to be. "Practically perfect. And I hope it remains so."

She left the golden locket with the broken chain in the nursery and made her exit, going backstage to get hooked up into the rig that would enable her to soar over the heads of the captivated audience one last time. As she was strapped in, she listened to the children and Rebecca and Daniel speaking onstage, a large, true smile crossing her face; even after two years of eight shows a week, her heart was still warmed every time she witnessed this scene.

Slowly, she was hoisted into the air, as graceful, prim, and proper as ever, and she was kept hovering a few inches off the ground while they awaited her cue, carpetbag and umbrella held securely in either hand. Gavin didn't normally find her backstage while she was in the harness, but tonight was a night for firsts as well as lasts, it seemed. He walked around the corner and over to where she hung in mid-air, and placed a hand against one of her clasped ones. She marveled at the sudden rush of anticipation and excitement that flooded her heart when she felt his hand on hers, and she looked into his eyes lovingly.

"I never thought I'd fall for a British swain," she joked, her English accent lingering, making both of them laugh quietly. Her expression grew more serious after a moment and she continued to look at him, her gaze caressing him, since her occupied hands could not. "I think I may be in love with you," she whispered.

His brown eyes softened and he pulled her face to his for a long, beautiful kiss, pouring into it two years' worth of love and devotion of depths immeasurable. When he released her face, she parted her lips ever so slightly in a shocked, but exceptionally happy, smile.

"I think I may be in love with you, too, Mary Poppins," he said with a luminous and handsome grin.

"Gavin, I am _not_ Mary Poppins," she said.

"You are for about…" he dramatically checked his nonexistent watch. "… five more minutes," he laughed cheerfully.

"You know what I mean!" she sighed, her accent now long forgotten.

"Yes, I know," he said gently. He paused and he gazed deeply into her eyes again. "I love you, Ashley Brown."

Her brilliant smile grew enormously and she felt a slight tug on the wires holding her.

"It's time for me to go," she said with a faint laugh. "I'll see you in a few?"

"Indubitably," he answered; his smile just as radiant as hers.

With a last glance at Gavin, Ashley extended her left arm, umbrella in hand, and tightened her grip on the bag in her right. She gave a quick nod and, her heart overflowing with immense and pure joy, she ascended through the darkness and, for the first time, flew.


	10. J

**A/N: Jentacular (adj)–pertaining to breakfast**

**I actually just had homemade pancakes the other day, which (for me, since I can't cook) is an oddity… haha.**

* * *

Jentacular

_19— London_

The early morning sun streamed through the open window and a light breeze ruffled the curtains. Bert stood at the pane, relaxed and refreshed, looking out at the exquisite spring day, a bright smile crossing his handsome face. Today was a rather special day for him and his wife: he had been planning this morning for days now and he was beyond excited to be spending time beside her, no matter how ordinary the task; he just couldn't get enough of his lovely Mary.

He turned to look down upon her somewhat disheveled sleeping form and his eyes softened; she was smiling contentedly in her sleep and she released a quiet sigh as she slightly adjusted her position, the covers sliding down a bit further from her shoulder. His hand tenderly brushed her cheek and he smiled warmly to himself; she was beautiful, and he felt extremely lucky to have her. Not wanting to wake Mary, he silently left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. A little preparation was necessary, and he wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

***

Mary awoke with a radiant smile, her eyes still closed, stretching with the satisfaction of a good night's rest and moving onto her side to face the middle of the comfortable bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Her smile dipped a little when she did not receive a response, and her eyes quickly opened to find her husband's side of the bed cold and empty. An eyebrow rose in alarm; he was not one to disappear from bed in the early hours of the weekend morning. Mary heard the faint sound of pots and pans clanging from the kitchen downstairs and she suddenly remembered what day it was, and she groaned uncharacteristically and sank back into the soft pillows, placing her hands against her forehead.

She had been somewhat dreading this morning for the past few days since Bert had made his plan. It was foolish of her to be nervous, she knew, but she couldn't help it; if there was one thing she was even remotely self-conscious about, it was this…

***

A few days ago she and Bert had been sitting together at the kitchen table before he went off to work for the day. He'd been reading the newspaper and she, having been in a rather mischievous mood that morning (though, he would joke, she _always _seemed to be in a mischievous mood as of late), had been making the words jump all over the page from the other side of the table, and innocently sipping her tea as she did so.

"I think something's wrong with the newspaper," Bert said, creasing the top down slightly so he could peer over it knowingly at Mary.

"Oh?" she asked nonchalantly, looking up at him from her tea. "That's odd. I wonder what it could be."

"Hmm… I wonder _who _it could be is more the question," he mumbled, folding the paper and setting it down beside his cup.

"Are you accusing me of bewitching your newspaper?" she asked, her eyes glowing playfully.

"No… I guess not. I suppose it could have been someone else. My perfect, lovely wife must have nothing to do with this," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

She sniffed and stood from her chair going to the counter and pouring herself another cup of tea.

"Would you like more tea, darling?" she asked sweetly, leaning down and giving him a light kiss on the cheek while carefully placing her own full cup on the table.

"Only if you promise not to enchant that, too."

Mary raised an eyebrow at him in a scandalised look and he laughed heartily as she gazed at him, her hands forming right angles on her hips.

"Well, if you don't _want _it…"

His laughter doubled and he handed her his cup, wiping an amused tear from his eye. She was so entirely predictable in her reactions, and he loved her for it; every chance he was given to toy with her, he used to its fullest potential. He was about to unfold his paper again when his stomach suddenly rumbled loudly and he looked down and patted it with a gentle hand.

"I'm hungry," he announced.

"Really, now?" Mary replied sarcastically, pouring his tea with a smile. "I never would have guessed."

"Hmm…" he began, his eyebrow creased in thought. "I have had the strangest craving for pancakes lately."

"Is that so?" she answered, setting his now full cup of tea down on the table in front of him. "Well, I can get those for you in a snap."

He rolled his eyes as she laughed merrily at her own terrible joke.

"You're hilarious. Honestly. My sides are splitting."

His deadpan expression only made her laugh more and he couldn't hold his smile in much longer; it spread across his face and he took Mary's hand and kissed it lightly. He released her hand and brought his cup of tea to his lips, taking a quick sip.

"And, as much as I appreciate your snaps," he chuckled, "I do believe I'm going to make them myself. There is nothing better than the smell of fresh pancakes wafting through the air as you heap 'em onto an enormous plate." His eyes sparkled and he took another drink of his tea. "Would you like to help?"

Her mind stopped briefly at his statement as he looked expectantly into her suddenly hesitant eyes. This was something she'd been foolishly self-conscious of for a long time, and she wasn't exactly sure that she wanted him to know of her inexperience with many simple, everyday things just yet.

Mary had discovered her rather unique talents at a very young age, and since then she'd been using her powers for just about everything. It had never been that she didn't _want _to know how to do things like everyone else; it was just that she didn't _have _to. Over the years she had grown so used to merely snapping her fingers that she had not taken the time to actually learn how to complete the task at hand without the aid of magic. In fact, it had not even occurred to her until she had fallen in love with Bert; despite him always saying that he loved her for who and what she was, somewhere in the back of her mind were minute—but ever-present—fears that he would want some semblance of normalcy in their life together, which she knew was not (and never would be) possible while she was around.

"Mary?" he said when she didn't answer, interrupting her thoughts.

She sighed imperceptibly, shaking herself from her reverie. Though she would much rather uphold her practically perfect image, even around him, it seemed that she had no choice in the matter; if he didn't find out now, he would later, and there was no sense in attempting to prolong the inevitable. She sighed again and her cheeks tinged a faint pink with slight embarrassment.

"I would _like_ to help, Bert," she began tentatively, "but I… I don't know how."

She lowered her gaze from his when his jaw dropped open in shock and his brown eyes grew wide.

"You mean to say that you've never made pancakes before?"

She shook her head.

"Never?"

"Never," she repeated. "I've always just… snapped."

He looked at her in disbelief again and his eyes suddenly lit up and a brilliant smile stretched across his face.

"Well, then," he said excitedly, bringing his teacup to his lips once more, "I'll just have to teach you."

"What?"

"We'll make an entire morning out of it. How does this weekend sound? Are you busy?"

He flashed her a cheeky grin and she inwardly sighed, but gave him a bright smile instead.

"I'm never too busy for you, Bert."

He rose from his seat, giving her a luminous smile and a kiss on the cheek, and he grabbed an apple on the way out of the kitchen, tossing it up and down in his hand. He winked as he grabbed his brooms, and with a slight wave he opened the door and left for a long day of work.

***

Her mind wandered from her thoughts and she sat up in bed, dangling her legs over the edge before setting her feet on the cool wood floor. _Why did I agree to go through with this? _she asked herself. _I am going to look like an enormous fool._

If there was anything Mary Poppins disliked, it was being made a fool of. It happened so rarely, if at all, that she didn't have to worry much, however she feared that in this particular situation, her ignorance was going to be blaringly, and embarrassingly, obvious. Normally she smoothly and subtly evaded any circumstance that would put her in such a position, but this time, which was why she was so frustrated, it was unavoidable. She sighed and slowly dressed, taking her time, despite the knowledge that by delaying she was not making anything better. She knew that she had nothing real to be anxious about; Bert was not so petty to think less of her because she didn't know how perform a few common tasks. She knew full well that he loved her unconditionally, inexperience with normal matters and all, but it was her pride that made her concerns manifest. She was an awfully proud person who thought very highly of herself and, despite being able to do anything with her magic, without it… though she would not admit it aloud, without her magic she felt rather powerless. She _liked _being in control, and it was when she was not that she became nervous.

She sighed again and finished getting dressed, making the bed with a snap and shutting out the lights as she closed the door behind her. Her thoughts began to roam once more as she made her way quietly down the stairs. _What if I completely mess things up? _she thought worriedly. _What if I can't do it? _

That thought frightened her most of all; Mary Poppins not being able to do something as simple as make a pancake breakfast with nothing but the help of a few spoons and a pan? The notion was laughable, but she had a sinking feeling that it was true. Though she knew it was ridiculous to think she actually could do everything, she still wanted to preserve that idea in Bert's (and her own) mind. _Even practically perfect people have their faults_, she thought with a deep breath. _And one of mine is about to be thrust into the open…_

She entered the kitchen to find Bert hurrying about, placing pans and bowls and spoons on the counter and searching through the pantry, mumbling to himself the words printed on the labels of boxes under his breath.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, holding a small box aloft in the air. "Baking powder!"

"Do we have everything we need?" she asked, slightly hoping that they did not so she would have an excuse to go out and escape this embarrassment for just a few moments more.

"Yes! We have…" he pointed at the ingredients that were set neatly on the counter, "flour, salt, milk, sugar, eggs, butter, and," he lifted up the box he was still clutching in his right hand, "baking powder! All the ingredients for a delectable pancake breakfast."

He was beaming and Mary was finding it difficult to be anxious and unhappy with the situation. His usual cheerfulness had been multiplied, and her worries were lifted off her shoulders somewhat as her smile grew, his enthusiasm rubbing off on her.

"That sounds delicious," she said with a wide grin. "So… where do we start?"

"Well…" he began, leading her over to the counter as she tied her crisp white apron neatly around her waist.

He began measuring out the ingredients, showing her the amount for each one, and she dumped them carefully into the large bowl as he handed them to her. She readily soaked up all the information he offered; never missing a beat as he spoke. He was a natural teacher, and his happiness was apparent in every word and movement.

"All we have to do now is mix it together…" he handed her a spoon with a sly smile, "and then the real fun begins."

"The real fun?" she asked tentatively.

"Well, yes, you have to cook it, Mary. Can't just eat it as is," he chuckled.

"Yes, I _know_, Bert," she replied. "I'm not entirely unskilled in the kitchen, thank _you._"

"Really? So you know how to stir, then?"

"_Yes, _I know how to stir," she said, annoyed. "How incompetent do you think I am?"

She was giving him a stern glare and her eyes were flashing, and Bert could not stop himself from erupting in hysterical laughter. She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her forehead.

"Right, how could I have forgotten?" she said under her breath. "I married a child."

"You fell in love with this child, Mary, so you should be used to him already. Now keep stirring."

She gave him another glare and he returned it with a large, luminous smile.

"Please."

She shifted her gaze from his and began stirring the batter again as he readied the pan, pouring the slightest bit of oil and setting it on the stove to let it get hot. Though she was giving him a hard time, she had to admit that she was rather enjoying bustling about the kitchen and doing things, well… with her own two hands. Bert leaned over to look at the mixture and nodded.

"I think it's about ready now," he said. "Bring it over here and pour a bit onto the pan." She slowly tipped the bowl and allowed some of the batter to slide on the pan and it immediately started sizzling. "Ok, that's good," he continued and she stopped pouring, placing the bowl beside her. "Now watch."

He took the spatula he'd been holding and spread the batter into a flat, even circle. He let the cake sit for a little while and after a minute or two he carefully looked at the underside of the pancake and he smiled when he saw it was a savoury golden-brown.

"Alright, Mary; this here is the hard part. You have to flip it."

"How do you do that?"

"Well, you take the handle of the pan like so," he took it securely in his hand, "and you have to shake it a little to get the cake unstuck, and then…" he moved his wrist smoothly and quickly and the pancake was thrown into the air where it flipped over, landing safely back in the pan on its other side, beginning to sizzle once more. He let it cook for a few minutes and then, satisfied that it was finished, he took the spatula and flipped the pancake onto a large plate.

"That's all there is to it," he said cheerfully. "Your turn!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You get to try now."

"Bert, I don't think—"

"No way are you getting out of this one, Mary. You are flipping a pancake whether you like it or not."

She sighed in defeat and switched spots with him.

"Alright, so what do I do?"

He repeated the steps from before, pouring the batter onto the pan and waiting for it to be perfect before motioning her over. He placed his hand over hers when she took the panhandle, and together they tossed the pancake and it came down undamaged and it soon joined the other on the plate. His eyes were bright and a small smile tugged at her lips and he released her hand with a grin.

"See? It's not that difficult."

"Not with you, perhaps," she said, eyes shining.

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and he smiled vibrantly.

"I will be right back," he said. "I need to search for the syrup. Try one on your own while I'm gone."

He left the room in a rush and Mary looked determinedly at the bowl of pancake batter. She took a deep breath and picked up the bowl, carefully pouring the correct amount into the pan and allowing it to sizzle for a while, keeping a watchful eye on it to make sure it didn't start playing games with her. _It's a pancake, what could it possibly do? _she thought. _I'm being ridiculous. _She continued staring at the pan till she deemed it ready to be flipped. She hesitated before grasping the handle, her hand hovering over it for a few moments considering how badly this could go. She laughed quietly to herself; _everything is going to be fine. _She took the handle and shook the pan, the stuck cake loosening from the bottom and sliding around the oily surface. _Alright… here goes nothing… _

She tried it once and absolutely nothing happened. The cake barely made it to the edge of the pan, let alone up in the air. She narrowed her eyes at the pan and tightened her grip on the handle. _Maybe it needs a little more force, _she thought. She braced herself and flicked her wrist again, this time with perhaps a little _too much_ force, and the pancake went flying not up, but out, and it was soon plastered against one of the kitchen cupboards.

"Damn it!" she muttered quietly, her swiftly growing aggravation making her language slip as pancake dripped down the face of the cupboard door. "Of _course _this would happen…"

She quickly set down the pan and clenched her fists at her sides, heaving a great sigh before bringing her hands to her forehead in complete and utter frustration. She crossed her arms irately over her chest, watching as her failed attempt to flip a pancake slid down the cupboard. Mary suddenly remembered herself and looked furtively over her shoulder, checking to make sure Bert wasn't there. When she was absolutely certain he was nowhere to be seen, she smiled and loudly snapped her fingers, the pancake immediately coming unstuck from the door and cooking itself to perfection, landing atop the other two on the plate, steam rising from its crispy golden-brown surface. She smiled in triumph, her blue eyes lighting up mischievously; _Bert will never kn—_

"Cheater!" he shouted laughingly from the threshold, interrupting her thought.

_Oh, bother._

"Oh, and Mary," he said playfully, approaching the counter, "the pancake's supposed to go in the pan, not on the cupboard."

She blushed and her eyes grew wide; he'd seen it all. He started laughing when she realised it and Mary, little by little, overcame her embarrassment and began giggling along with him, snuggling into his arms when he wrapped them around her, both still laughing into the other's shoulders.

"So what happened to wanting to try things the normal way?" he asked, kissing her forehead lightly.

She smiled and leaned back to look into his eyes.

"Normal doesn't suit me, I've found."

"Oh?" he grinned, and tucked a stray hair away from her eyes.

"No," she shook her head, laughing quietly. "Normal doesn't suit me at all."

"Good. I'm glad," he said, leading her back to the stove. "Now let me finish these and you can set the ta—"

She had already snapped her fingers, causing the table to set itself; everything in its place for a proper breakfast. She smiled smugly and winked at him before going to sit down in her chair, watching him the entire time as he flipped the pancakes, whistling to himself as he worked. She sighed happily to herself once he was done and he sat down across from her, setting down the plate of pancakes and pouring a glass of orange juice for her and himself. She took it gratefully when he handed it to her and she gazed at him over the rim, her smile widening and her blue eyes sparkling. His warm brown eyes met hers and his brilliant smile grew as the same thought crossed both their minds: _life can't get much better than this…_


	11. K

**A/N: I am assuming that in 1910 Jane was nine and Michael was seven, so here they will be sixteen and fourteen respectively, and Annabel will be seven (since no one really cares about John and Barbara, they won't appear here. In fact, let's just pretend they don't exist at all for the sake of convenience, haha).**

* * *

Keyhole

_1917 London_

Mary Poppins sighed contentedly as she stood, hands on her hips, in the middle of the now very tidy nursery. It looked nearly the same as it was when she left seven years ago; the curtains had remained the same, as had the overall setup of the room, but some of the paintings had been replaced with photographs, and instead of there being two beds, there was a single larger one.

This was a rather odd experience for Mary. She never returned to the home of former charges after she'd been gone for a considerable period of time, so being here completely unchanged in the Banks' household seeing her dear charges all grown up; she couldn't decide if it made her heart glow with happiness or a hint of sadness. _They grow up so quickly_, she thought with an uneven smile.

Her smile grew, however, when she thought of how she _had _come to be in this place again. It had been rather amusing, actually. George Banks had left a little over a week ago on a month-long trip touring Europe to meet with some of the bank's foreign clients along the way, and he had asked Winifred to go with him. They had not wanted to leave the children (for they _were _still children, but mostly just Annabel) alone with Robertson Ay, since he was always mysteriously absent; nor did they want to leave them with Mrs. Brill. She was more often than not very reliable and though she wasn't a nincompoop, she was certainly something else akin to one. The Banks, then, had decided to try something rather unconventional. They had always wondered what had happened to Mary Poppins, and they knew the children had often contemplated it as well, so they decided to try and contact her to see if she would do them the favour of keeping an eye on Jane, Michael, and Annabel while they were away.

They had realised very quickly that they had absolutely no idea whatsoever of how to contact Mary Poppins, and they began to worry that they would not be able to find her in time. George had been hit with a rather ingenious idea; she had appeared the first time because he had thrown the advertisement in the fireplace, so he figured why not? It could very well work again. He had taken a piece of paper and written neatly on it a letter to Mary Poppins, whereupon he tore it into eight tiny pieces and threw them into the grate. He turned away and left the room, and waited a while before checking again. An hour later he returned to examine the fireplace and, to his amazement and relief, the scraps of paper had disappeared again, much as they had the first time seven years ago.

She had been unwinding on a cloud over Birmingham when they reached her. The wind had drawn the pieces up the chimney as it had before and carried it over the countryside to her. It had dropped the scraps unceremoniously in her lap and she easily put them back together, and when she read it her heart leapt into her throat. Happy tears had stung her eyes when memories of her stay at the Banks' home rushed back into her mind; it would be her pleasure to look after them one last time, and she had set off for London at once.

A day later, Mary Poppins had arrived, looking almost exactly the same as she had when she left, and Jane and Michael had practically jumped into her arms when they saw her. Mary had given Annabel a knowing smile; she would not remember her, she knew, but deep somewhere in Annabel's heart, Mary also knew that she recognised her: if not her face, then her essence. For, you see, no one _ever _forgot Mary Poppins.

George and Winifred had left a couple days after, and it had now been slightly over a week since their departure, and Mary had fallen into her usual routine of making things that much more perfect everywhere she went. This particular day, Michael and Annabel had accompanied Mrs. Brill into the city to purchase the fixings for a cake that they were planning to bake later. Robertson Ay, not surprisingly, was nowhere to be found, so it was just Mary and Jane in the house for a time.

Mary turned her mind from her memories and glanced around the nursery once more, making sure she hadn't missed anything. Satisfied that she had not, she walked into her adjoining room and looked herself over in the large mirror. She felt somewhat strange being in this room again. Though it hadn't changed that much, it had still changed, whereas Mary had not. Not in appearance, anyway. _But I have changed, _she thought. And indeed she had. In the seven years she'd been away from the Banks much had happened; she'd been nannying with other broken families, of course, but during that time she had also taken an enormous step in her own life.

She and Herbert Alfred, her closest friend (and dearest love, as it turned out to be), had been married nearly two years now, and they felt they could never be happier. They loved one another with every fiber of their beings, and they knew that their love could carry them through anything life threw at them. Their marriage was still a secret in this household, however, and she was content to leave it that way. Until someone noticed and asked about the ring glinting on her finger, she would not say a word.

She was surprised when she heard a knock on her window, and she walked over to find it was Bert, crouched on the outer sill looking in at her with a bright smile. _Sometimes I swear he's the one who can hear people's thoughts, not me, _she thought with a laughing look in her eyes and her smile. She opened the window and let him in, he making a loud bang on the wooden floor as he stepped down into the room.

"Hello there, love," he whispered to her, immediately taking her into his arms.

"Good afternoon, Bert," she whispered back, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her playfully off the ground.

She laughed loudly and his laughter joined hers, both forgetting that Jane was in the next room and could hear everything they did. Mary's secret wasn't going to be a secret for very long, it seemed.

***

Jane heard a loud thump come from the nursery next door and her head snapped up from the book she was reading. She glanced confusedly at the wall and she placed her ear against it, and she could just barely hear the musical laughing of Mary Poppins, but then she heard the echo of a man's deeper laughter, and her eyebrows rose in astonishment and piqued interest. _Mary Poppins is with a man, _Jane thought excitedly. _Alone! _She giggled with delight and pressed her ear even closer to the wall, trying to hear what was happening in the room.

She sighed in frustration when she couldn't hear anything. _They must've moved further into the center of the room_, she thought. She tried to go back to her reading, attempting with all her might to resist the urge to leave her room and stand at the door to the nursery and listen, but her resolve was swiftly crumbling. Her excitement was far too great, and she couldn't stop herself. Jane rose from her bed and looked down the hallway both ways to make sure the coast was clear before leaving the safety of her room.

She sidled along the wall keeping her back as closely pressed against it as possible, trying her hardest not to make even the slightest noise. She crept silently across the floor, shifting her eyes back and forth to make absolutely certain that no one was coming. A floorboard unexpectedly creaked and she stopped, sucking in a breath and holding it, her eyes moving frantically about; it had sounded much louder in the silence of the house. She waited a moment and when she was certain she wasn't caught, she continued her covert mission to the nursery door.

Upon reaching the door she put her ear up against it, desperately trying to hear Mary and the man's conversation. Jane recognised the soft-spoken voice, and it suddenly occurred to her: it was Bert! She saw him out and about every now and again, and he would always shake her hand and ask about the family. She liked him, and fond memories came back to her from her childhood when Mary Poppins was last with them. She smiled and sighed, and then remembered what she was doing and clasped her hands over her mouth. She still couldn't adequately hear the exchange, so she quietly shifted her position and moved her face to the door. She looked through the keyhole, opting to watch instead of listen, and she had a perfect view. Mary and Bert were standing in the middle of the room and they were talking amiably, bright smiles on their faces. Jane suddenly realised that Mary had a glow about her; not the glow she _normally _had, mind. This was a different glow; it was softer, more natural. Jane also noticed that she and Bert were standing rather close to one another—closer than what would be normal for two friends—and she began to wonder what exactly was going on here…

***

Bert had set Mary back down on the ground and she had taken him by the hand out of her room and into the main nursery. They were making small talk for a time, content to feel one another's presence around them and the other's hand in theirs. She spun into his arms, both beginning to laugh again, and he placed a tender kiss against her lips.

"You're extremely happy today," he observed. "Any reason why?"

"You're here," she said, giving him one of her true, bright smiles that only he seemed to receive.

"Any other reason?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Well…" she replied cheerfully, a twinkle in her eye. She gazed at him adoringly and placed one of his hands gently against her abdomen. "It's just been around two months now, so I think it's safe to say that we're going to be parents."

His smile grew enormously and he wrapped his arms around her in a gentle, loving embrace.

"Oh, Mary, that's wonderful," he whispered into her ear.

They had known she was pregnant for a little while now, but they wanted to be absolutely certain the baby would hold before celebrating. The look in her eyes told him that she knew without a doubt that they were set, and the beautiful glow she exuded only served to assure him even more. He stood very close to her and he took one of her hands in his, caressing it lightly with his thumb, all the while staring deeply into her eyes, sharing his thoughts and feelings with her as they often did. She smiled contentedly, placing her other hand against his chest, leaning upward to kiss him when she suddenly heard a slight movement from the hallway. Bert saw her eyes mist over a little, as they always did when she was looking beyond what everyone else could see. She remained that way for a moment and a small, thoroughly amused smile graced her face. Mary's eyes cleared and she leaned close to his ear, the warm exhalations of her quiet laughter tingling against his neck.

"Jane is staring at us through the keyhole," she whispered, her lips curled into a brilliant smile.

Bert surreptitiously glanced at the door and looked back to Mary.

"I suppose we shouldn't scandalise Jane," he quietly replied, his voice lowering flirtatiously.

"I think we've given her enough, wouldn't you agree?"

He seemed to consider it for a moment and he looked Mary deeply in the eyes, falling prey to the enthralling desirous gleam within them.

"I think we can risk a little more," he murmured. "After all, you're not her nanny any longer…"

His voice trailed away as he took her face between his hands and pressed his lips against hers. She sighed happily into his kiss and returned it wholeheartedly, but she knew they were being overindulgent and Jane should not be rewarded for her spying. After a few heavenly moments in his embrace, she regretfully pulled away and brushed her bare hand against Bert's cheek as she turned from him to go to the door.

***

Jane stared in amazement as she watched her old nanny, Mary Poppins, kissing her chimney sweep friend, Bert. She had always thought there was something going on between them. She had noticed the furtive glances they stole of one another when they were together; the discreet, yet deliberate, hand holding when he would gently caress her hand with his thumb; the bright, full smiles she saved only for him and the adoring glint that would appear in his eyes when he looked at her. Jane suppressed an excited squeal and she covered her mouth to make sure she didn't start giggling. She closed one eye to get a better look through the keyhole, and she saw Mary suddenly turn and begin heading for the door.

Jane panicked and started to move as quickly as possible away from the door, but she turned _too _fast and tripped over her feet, falling rather ungracefully to the hallway floor. It was at that moment when she was stretched out across the floor that the door swung open and Mary Poppins stood on the threshold, giving Jane a wary, albeit, amused look.

"Were you spying on me, young lady?" she asked, her tone mock serious.

"No, I was just… picking up this pin here. Yes, that's right. See?"

Jane picked up the pin that had fallen from her hair when she collapsed on the floor and held it aloft for Mary to see; giving her the most innocent look she could muster.

"Right," said Mary incredulously. "You, my dear, are the worst liar I have ever known, or my name isn't Mary Poppins."

Jane's cheeks tinged pink as she looked up into Mary's sparkling blue eyes. Mary extended a hand to her and Jane took it, feeling herself being lifted from the floor and set back on her own two feet. She smiled luminously and paused for a moment, then approached Mary and gave her an enormous hug.

"I'm happy for you," she said, and her eyes took on a new warmth.

"Thank you," Mary replied sincerely.

"So…" Jane began tentatively. "When's the wedding?"

"You're too late for that, Jane; now go on back to your room. And there'll be no more eavesdropping from you, am I clear?"

Jane's jaw dropped and she glanced down at Mary's left hand. A lovely gold ring was on her finger that Jane had not noticed before, and she let out another delighted gasp and again wrapped her arms around Mary.

Mary's eyes widened in surprise, but they soon softened and she returned the loving embrace wholeheartedly, part of her marveling at how much the little girl she once knew had grown up. Memories assaulted her and they warmed her heart, and Mary stepped back and took a good look at Jane.

"You have grown into a fine young woman," she said, beaming.

Jane blushed again and she looked at her feet, drawing tiny circles on the floor with the point of her shoe.

"Thanks to you," she replied, moving her gaze back to meet her old nanny's.

Mary's smile brightened and it reached her eyes. She glanced at Jane's door and nodded, then moved her gaze back to Jane. She understood and, with a smile, retreated back to her own room, poorly whistling a happy tune and nearly skipping down the hallway.

"No more spying!" Mary called to her.

"Alright, alright," Jane replied, giggling cheerfully as she entered her room.

Bert had joined Mary in the hall when they heard the click of Jane's door as it shut after her. Bert stood behind Mary and wrapped his arms around her waist, clasping them over her abdomen protectively.

"What do you think ours will be like?" he asked tenderly, kissing her neck.

"Practically perfect, I'm sure," she serenely replied, turning in his embrace and contentedly resting her head against his chest, listening to the comforting beating of his heart. "And… she will have my eyes. And your beautiful smile."

She shifted her blue gaze to meet his brown one, and he grinned at her with excitement.

"Oh? And you know this how?"

"I just do," she replied. "I can feel it."

He pressed a soft, quick kiss on her lips and she placed a hand against his cheek.

"If all the kids you looked after are any indication, you're going to be an outstanding mother."

She smiled at him brightly and her eyes shone with happiness.

"And I will have a wonderful man to raise our children with me," she replied, her hand still caressing his cheek affectionately.

He leaned down to kiss her again and she placed two fingers against his lips, stopping him.

"Not here," she laughed. "Someone could see."

He grinned largely and started to walk backwards into the nursery, giving her a long look. Her heart fluttered as his eyes darkened, and she took his hand when he offered it to her, leading her back into the nursery where he held her in his arms once again, their lips locked in a desperate battle of love and passion.

They did not get any further, however, because as soon as Mary had absentmindedly snapped the door shut, they'd heard the soft footsteps of Jane Banks creeping back through the hall, resuming her post at the keyhole.

"JANE!" they shouted together, and they laughed as they heard her frantically shuffling back to her room.

When they were sure she was gone, Bert walked over to the window that he had entered through and picked up his brooms, supporting them on his shoulder.

"Mrs. Brill is holding the fort for you tonight, right?" he whispered to Mary, placing his free hand against her cheek and gently kissing her forehead.

"Yes," she replied.

"I'll be back for you, then," he said warmly. "For our midnight ren-dez-voos on the rooftops."

Mary laughed heartily as he imitated Mrs. Brill's pronunciation of the French, his voice squeaking slightly in a lilting falsetto.

"And I'll be anxiously waiting," she answered flirtatiously once her laughter had subsided, placing a kiss on his lips in return.

With a last glance and a smile, he climbed out the window and down to the ground, making his way to the home of his first client of the day. Mary drew the curtains over the window when Bert was beyond her sight, the heat of his kisses still running through her body, and she sighed in contentment. _If he only knew what he does to me_, she thought laughing.

Mary had nothing to do around the house until Mrs. Brill returned with Michael and Annabel, so she lay down lazily on her bed, finding herself enjoying the feeling of being peacefully idle. _I could get used to this_, she thought with a smile, though she knew that with this baby on the way, it would be very short-lived, indeed. She wasn't concerned, however; she was excited beyond expression to finally have a child of her own, and she was thrilled to be going on that journey with Bert. These blissful thoughts in mind, she rose from her bed to go downstairs to make herself some tea. _But not too much tea, _she thought with a smile, patting her stomach gingerly.

As she passed Jane's room she knocked quietly on the door and when she answered it, Jane's smile increased in magnitude when she saw it was Mary in the hall.

"Would you like some tea?" Mary asked cheerfully.

"Yes, please," Jane answered with a delighted grin. "I'll help you."

Jane linked her arm through Mary's as they walked downstairs, catching up on one another's lives, Jane exceptionally interested in Mary and Bert's wedding. They laughed happily as they made their way to the kitchen, reconnecting after seven years apart and talking animatedly while the water heated. When Mrs. Brill, Michael, and Annabel returned, the five of them sat together at the kitchen table, telling stories and jokes and enjoying one another's company.

Mary took a sip of her tea, a brilliant smile on her face, and she hoped that her family would be as happy as this. Somewhere in the back of her mind, however, she knew she didn't have to worry. She was Mary Poppins; and when you're with Mary Poppins, anything can happen.


	12. L

**A/N: This one treats the City as a character, almost, and it's a series of memories (ending in the "present") of Mary and Bert's ever-evolving relationship... ;) I wanted to try something a little different, so we'll see how that works out.**

* * *

London

_19— London_

The City of London was not simply a group of edifices clumped together by a river; nor was it merely the shell for the life that lived within its limits. It had a heart and soul of its own; it was the trees that grew there, the shadows that crept there, the wind that blew high around the chimneys, the mist and the rain and the stars and the clouds; everything together was London, and they acted as one—a subtle influence—and a silent observer to all that occurred within its borders.

It paid special attention to those who knew it best, and those were, indisputably, Mary Poppins and Bert Alfred. They shared a deep connection with the City and they knew every inch of sidewalk, every blade of grass; every stone archway. London knew everything they did, and there was never a moment in their long history together that it had forgotten.

***

It remembered the day Mary and Bert had met; the sidewalk had beckoned to him that day, and the chirping birds had called to her. The City brought them together, and it watched, silent as always, as Mary looked on in wonder at Bert's drawings, he surreptitiously admiring her from his position leaning against the park fence. She looked up from the pictures and directed her gaze to his and their eyes met for the first time; they exchanged a smile and a few friendly words and, somewhere in the backs of their minds, they knew their hearts had been lost.

***

It remembered the day she revealed herself to him; they had known one another for a few months by that time, and she had been exceptionally nervous. The wind and the stars and the rolling mist had whispered to her to show him what she was and, perhaps against her usual reservations, she listened. The City presented an opportunity soon enough; it was a lovely crisp autumn day and they had been walking together in an apple orchard just outside of London. Its influence stretched beyond the main circle of the city, and it was certain to place the perfect apple in the most tantalisingly out-of-reach branch, flashing an inviting red in the late morning sun.

Walking through the orchard, they came across the tree at once, and the apple immediately caught Bert's attention. He grinned to Mary and offered to retrieve it for her and she laughed merrily as he deftly climbed the tree. Once in the branches, he tried desperately to grab the apple, but the tree would not let him take hold of it. Mary laughed to herself, the barest trace of a smile lighting up her face; the tree was toying with him.

"Would you like me to try?" she had asked, her smile brightening considerably.

"No, I've got it," Bert replied, again stretching in vain for the shining fruit.

"Are you sure?" she laughed, a mysterious glint alight in her blue eyes.

"Yes," he grunted. "I'm almost there."

She shook her head in amusement, her brilliant smile reaching her eyes. Without so much as a thought for the consequences, she gracefully rose into the air, hovering just under the branch, and plucked the apple delicately from its stem, holding it securely in her bare hand. His mouth dropped open in awe and his wide eyes shifted to hers, silently asking her how it was possible.

Her suddenly shy gaze fell to the fruit in her hand.

"I am what I am, Bert," she said softly. "And there is nothing I can do to change it."

His left hand gripping the branch firmly, he reached out his right and seized the apple from her grasp and took a huge bite out of it, his brown eyes sparkling with exhilaration.

"Good," he said cheerfully, and her eyes shot up in astonishment to meet his once more. "What man would object to a bit of magic in his life, hmm?"

Her luminous smile returned and she held out her hand, into which he dropped the apple and she took a bite of it herself. They remained thus for quite some time—he in the branches of the tree and she floating in midair beside him—eating apples and sharing pieces of their lives with the other; both already imagining the adventures that lay in wait for them together.

***

It remembered the night several months later when they had danced upon its expansive rooftops beneath the glittering light of the faraway stars. The City had cleared the sky for them, purging it of the gloomy grey clouds that usually shrouded the buildings below in darkness. It had been her Night Out and she had met him on the roof of the home she was residing in at the time; once again changing a family in need for the better, as it brought her the greatest joy. Or… it was once her greatest joy. Every new moment she spent with Bert, she fell deeper and deeper in love with him, and he deeper and deeper in love with her, though both were blind to the feelings of the other. They similarly believed that the other could never love them: she was frightened that he would want a normal life, and that was something, she knew, she could never provide; and he feared that she was too high above him, and that she would never fall for a man of his less-than-impressive status.

Despite their doubts, however, he had taken her delicately in his arms, her own resting gently on his shoulders, as they waltzed across the moonlit rooftop, stepping and spinning, coats flying out behind them. As they gazed into the infinite depths of the other's eyes, their hearts, unbeknownst to them, connected ever so briefly, and rejoiced in the warmth of the love residing within. The stars and the London winds held their breaths, hoping with all their spirit that this couple would realise their longing, but they very well knew that it would take time and patience; and, luckily, both were things of which they had plenty to spare.

***

It remembered an outing a few years after with her charges by her side, meeting Bert in the park for a chalk picture adventure to escape from the dreary, cloudy day. They had slipped into the drawing as she so often did, gallivanting off to whatever world Bert had created for them next. The children had run ahead to play in the distance and had left Mary and Bert, for a time, alone. The picture had been drawn in London, and thus the City had followed them, watching from afar with suppressed frustration, silently urging them to make a move, making the sun shine brighter, the air smell fresher; anything to make them at ease.

Bert linked his arm with Mary's and they strolled amiably down the path, even that mere contact between them sending their hearts racing in their chests and a tingle rushing up and down their spines. Mary could hear whispers all around her; in the breeze, in the gently babbling brook running alongside the forest path, in the creaking of the trees and the rustling of the leaves. They had veiled their message from her mind, but something within her heart was awakened by their hidden words and it spread rapidly along her every nerve, frantically pleading with her mind to open her eyes to the facts of her life. _You are blind, _it shouted. _Open your eyes, Mary; see who is before you. You need only to extend your hand, and he will take it willingly and hold it tight forever. Open your eyes and you will be free…_

She suddenly stopped walking then, her hand still gently grasped in his, and when he felt her hand sliding away, he stopped and turned to look at her, and he was dumbfounded at what he saw. The Mary Poppins he had known for years had without warning disappeared, and in the place of the stern, yet kind, cool, calm, and collected nanny, stood instead a woman confused; a woman anxious; a woman besieged by emotion. She moved her misty blue gaze to his concerned brown one and a single tear fell from her eye. He tenderly wiped it away from her cheek and allowed his hand to linger, following the insistent cries from his heart for once, rather than the forbearing remarks of his mind.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I've been such a fool," she replied, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

"How so, Mary?"

She paused and took his hand from her cheek and held it steadily in her own, lacing her fingers with his.

"You have always been beside me and I have never seen it."

"Mary—"

"And," she interrupted him, taking a deep, reassuring breath, "my heart is near to bursting with my love for you, and I cannot bear to hide it any longer, regardless of whether or not you return it. Everything tells me that you do, but I find it hard to believe…"

Her voice trailed away as she shifted her gaze from his to look at their clasped hands.

"What will make you believe it?" he asked quietly, gently placing two fingers beneath her chin, raising her head so he could look into her eyes. She closed her eyes and she said nothing for several moments. When they opened again she spoke, her voice soft with longing.

"Kiss me."

If he hesitated, she could not tell as his lips descended upon hers; the intense spark they felt was entirely unexpected and it roused within her a passion she had long kept buried. Mary reveled in the love that coursed from him to her through the kiss and she knew for certain that he was hers, just as he knew that she was his. Their yearning grew and the kiss became more ardent, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and his were resting on her lower back. He poured all the passion of his heart into his lips, she returning his fervor with as much, if not more, potency. After several moments thus, they broke on heavenly sighs, and Bert moved a hand to her cheek again, both of their breaths coming out in short gasps.

"Does that help to quell your doubts?" he asked quietly, a playful glow in his eyes.

"Yes," she replied, her bright gaze once again meeting his. "I love you, Bert."

"I love you, too, Mary. More than anything in this world."

A radiant smile stretched across her face that matched his own, and he brought his hand from her face, again linking his arm with hers, and they walked together after the children, the likes of whom, they had suddenly realised, were nowhere to be seen or heard in the immediate area. Mary and Bert were not worried, though; they could never be hurt or lost in the imaginary realm crafted by Bert's gentle hand.

As they walked, a beautiful, contented glow exuded from Mary's eyes; she could feel the wind and the trees' celebration and ecstatic cheers, and she laughed joyfully. At the musical sound her laughter, Bert's smile grew, and he looked over to her.

"What is it?"

"Everything is happy for us," she replied with a smile, and Bert chuckled quietly. "London has been waiting for us to come to our senses, it seems."

So it seemed and so it was, and the City had never been more excited. Upon their return to its sidewalks and streets, the clouds had vanished; the grass had become a bit greener, and the sky a bit bluer, and the city itself seemed to be at peace. Mary smiled warmly to Bert and she took her charges by the hands to take them home, both hers and Bert's thoughts drifting to the morrow, for they had never anticipated the future more in all their lives.

***

It remembered the night, a few months later, when they had lain in one another's arms, the dark curtains drawn over the window of his apartment, so the mischievous stars could not steal a look through and see. She had been between jobs at the time and had no real place to stay at such short notice, so he had extended the invitation for her to reside with him while waiting for the wind to guide her to her next family. She had happily accepted, and, though there was only one bedroom in the flat, she was not bothered; she, of course, had her own means of producing furniture to use.

In the first couple days she spent there she learned much about his living patterns, and he of hers. They acclimated to the constant presence of the other fairly quickly, and, even more quickly, they realised that they were rather fond of finding traces of the other lying about the house; the thought occurred to both of them and they smiled softly: they could get used to living together like this.

Every night they stayed up late talking, getting to know one another even more than they already did. They thoroughly enjoyed the other's company, and she would sit with his arms around her, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. The stars had been exceptionally spirited one night; shining bright and playful through the window and some of their excitement and energy seemed to rub off on the two. Their kisses had become more passionate; their touches more frantic; and it was only a matter of moments before he looked into her darkened eyes and saw the same sensual desires present within them that were unleashed in his heart, and they knew there was nothing stopping them from going upstairs to his bed.

He turned down the covers as she closed the curtain and she was soon in his arms again, both finally submitting to the feelings that ran urgently within them. Their whispered vows hung in the air and their lips caressed the other's earnestly, and it was then that she looked deeply into his enthralling eyes and snapped out the lights on a sigh.

The next day they awoke beside one another to golden rays of the sun desperately trying to peek through the curtain. He stroked her cheek tenderly, tucking strands of her dark hair behind her ear, until she opened her dazzling blue eyes with a lazy, contented smile.

"Good morning, Bert," she had tenderly said. And to him, it was the most beautiful sentence in the world.

***

London had many secrets, and Mary Poppins and Bert Alfred knew them all. They knew every hidden alcove; every shaded passage; every far off rooftop. Every last bit of London, too, knew their presence, and now that their essences had become one, London would protect their secret as faithfully as they protected its own.

Bert was walking in a dark alley returning to his home after a long day of work, and, as usual, he could not get Mary off his mind. She was going out on personal errands today, he knew, and he wanted to meet her, so he waited on the corner, scanning the distance for her lovely form. He saw her before long and when she was close enough, he whistled loudly to catch her attention. She saw him and her eyes lit up, her course shifting from going straight ahead to town and instead walking toward him in the alley.

"Did you want something?" she asked coyly, her eyes glimmering with mirth.

He paused before answering, taking a moment to gaze intensely into her profound eyes.

"Only you."

He drew her into the alley and she gasped in delighted surprise; he immediately trapping her against the red brick wall and pressing against her as she wasted no time in passionately kissing him with a wild abandon such as he'd never before experienced. Her hands tightly gripped the front of his shirt and his hands were holding her shoulders, and they sighed blissfully into their loving kiss.

Mary and Bert had no fears of being discovered; they were concealed by the City's shadow and were consequently free to love the other shamelessly, for of one thing they were absolutely certain: with London on their side, it would always remember, and their secret would be safe forever.


	13. M

**A/N: For the purpose of this fic, I have skewed the MP timeline a bit. Everything happens so incredibly fast, so I've slowed it down a bit here. Instead of immediately jumping into the fun stuff following her arrival at Cherry Tree Lane, let's pretend that there's a little time between where the children put her to the test… bwahaha.**

**Her entrance is based on the book's, where she doesn't actually fly in like she does in the movie, but is rather thrown at the Banks' front door by the wind. Just so there's no confusion for later, hahaha.**

**And thanks to where thanks are due: to the one and only Elizabeth Lakecrest, for her invaluable help on this one. Thank you, darling! I owe you one.**

* * *

Mischief

_1910 London_

She had arrived seemingly from nowhere—the wind had blown her in, she'd said—and in the few hours she'd resided in the Banks' household, already they knew they were in for something completely different from before. Jane and Michael Banks had been the sole witnesses of her rather curious behaviour; no one else had seen her slide _up _the banister, nor had anyone seen her draw full length mirrors and live, growing plants (among other things) from her apparently empty carpetbag. Michael had looked within it himself, and it certainly had been empty; at least, it had been to his eyes.

This Mary Poppins woman was without a doubt going to be more difficult to get rid of than any nanny the children had previously had, but they were up for the challenge. As soon as Katie Nana had left, Jane and Michael had gone through their arsenal, deciding upon the next tricks they were to use against their newest adversary. They had chosen their most successful ones, and it was a good thing they did; this woman was exceptionally tricky, they could tell, and they were going to need every ounce of previous luck to send her packing like the rest.

***

Hours later, they sat upright in their beds, staring at her in dark of the nursery. She had put them spit spot into bed, as she'd said, and now they were in their pajamas without much recollection of how it had happened. It had all happened so quickly; one second they were in their play clothes, and the next the buttons and clasps were flying off from beneath Mary Poppins' fingers with no problem whatsoever and they were tucked under the covers of their beds. She had lit a single candle to finish her unpacking by, though they could not tell where she had gotten the match from; they knew for a fact that she hadn't had one when she put them to bed, nor had she previously unpacked a box. Those musings were chased from their minds as they saw her turn her bag on its side and pull from it a fully made bed, pillows and all, which she placed in the far corner of the room beside her hat stand. Their eyes grew wide as they turned their heads to gaze at one another, half in fear and half in awe; _we have to keep an eye on this one, _they thought, yawning largely. _We have to keep both eyes on this one…_

Little did they know that their thoughts were clear as day to the blue-eyed figure bustling quietly about in the flickering light of the candle. She had dealt with this many times before; the children she took on as her charges were rarely willing, let alone happy, to have her as their new nanny, but, given a bit of time, _and a bit of magic_, she thought, they always warmed up to her. _And how could they not? _She thought, a self-satisfied smile tugging at her lips. _What's not to like?_ She took a glimpse of herself in the mirror she had hung on the wall, letting her hair down for the night, and her reflection winked at her. She winked back in the dark and proceeded to change into her own pajamas. She soon lay down on her bed, listening to the slow breathing of the finally sleeping forms of Jane and Michael, and a small smile again graced her face. _They've yet to know that they've met their match_, she thought, thoroughly amused. _Tomorrow will certainly be entertaining, there is no doubt about that…_ She blew out the candle and the room plunged into darkness, she, too, succumbing to sleep and entering the familiar world of dreams.

***

The following morning Mary awoke fairly early to prepare breakfast for the children. Her mind was occupied, however, trying to figure out what exactly they had planned for her. She would find out soon enough, and she was convinced it wasn't going to be good, though nothing she couldn't handle, of course. She hummed contentedly to herself; this was going to be an interesting first day.

***

Jane and Michael stirred in their beds and took deep breaths, inhaling the strong scent of toast that wafted upstairs from the kitchen. They smiled to themselves for a moment, remembering that Katie Nana had left, but when they opened their eyes and saw Mary Poppins' bed, they were brutally reminded of their new and extremely odd nanny. They shared a glance and a determined nod; it was time to put their plan into action.

***

The children came downstairs a few moments later, making sure to thump each step as loudly as possible. Jane and Michael silently and innocently crept into the kitchen and the smell of toast intensified, and it was added to the scent of fresh-squeezed orange juice. They saw Mary Poppins with her back to them wearing a blue skirt, a blue and white striped blouse, and a crisp white apron tied in a bow around her waist.

"The way you two came stomping down the stairs, one would've thought the elephants from the zoo were on parade," she said, without turning around.

"Perhaps they _are_," Michael said rather rudely.

Mary Poppins spun around swiftly on the heel of her laced up black boot, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she did so, to look straight into Michael's eyes.

"Are they now," she replied, giving him one of the most reproachful glares he'd ever seen.

Against his own volition, his voice softened and his head turned downwards to look at his feet. With time he would learn that when Mary Poppins looked at you like that, there was nothing you could do but obey and be silent.

"Maybe not…" he said calmly, though in his mind he was quite nervous indeed.

Mary Poppins sniffed loudly and turned back around to finish spreading butter on the toast and checking the kettle that was currently heating on the stove. Jane and Michael sat down at the table, kicking their feet in the air since they could not yet reach the floor. They shared a secretive glance and a smile; they had yet to pull their first trick of the day.

Mary turned around again, a giant plate of toast in one hand and a pitcher of orange juice in the other. She set them down on the table and returned to the counter, just as the tea began to steam. She brought the kettle and milk over to the table as well, and, after retrieving plates, glasses and cutlery (though how she knew where they were without having been told, Jane and Michael could not figure out), she finally took a seat at the table. She poured her tea in silence as the children loudly ate their toast, deliberately being as noisy and impolite as possible.

"Jane, would you pass the sugar, please?"

She and Michael exchanged a conspiratorial glance, but Mary, it appeared, was not paying attention. She was staring at the kitchen door, or rather, through it; her bright blue eyes were unfocused and distant and they seemed to see beyond the barrier of the thick door. Mr. and Mrs. Banks were having a fairly loud discussion in the other room (rather, Mr. Banks was having a fairly loud discussion with himself), and Mary was paying very close attention to what they were saying, though Jane and Michael could only hear unintelligible shouts and meek, whispered replies. Mary's eyebrows were creased in concern, but the children didn't really care enough to notice.

"How many lumps would you like, Mary Poppins?" Jane asked, perhaps a little too politely.

"Two is fine, thank you," she said inattentively, still looking at the door.

Jane used the opportunity to its full potential. With Mary Poppins not paying attention, Jane was able to easily grab the jar of pepper instead of the sugar bowl, and to proceed to dump a rather generous amount of the black and white substance into Mary's teacup. Jane quickly placed the jar where it had been previously on the table and sat innocently, quietly eating her toast while Michael tried desperately to contain his laughter.

Once the argument had died down, Mary Poppins turned her eyes from the door and over to Michael, who was just able to restrain himself and was managing to keep a straight face. She gave him a glare, but said nothing, and instead picked up her teacup, looking down into it as she did so.

"Thank you for the sugar, Jane," she smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

"What?" Jane said in disbelief.

"The sugar." Mary showed the cup to her and, lo and behold, there were two melting lumps of sugar floating around in the warm, brown liquid.

"But—" Jane began, entirely confused. She had definitely _not _put sugar in that cup.

"Goats butt, birds fly, and children who need to tidy up the nursery must finish their breakfast. Go on, spit spot!"

Jane and Michael shared an uneasy glance before looking back to their plates. They finished their toast quickly, extremely puzzled and more than a little nervous. Mary Poppins was trickier than they thought…

***

"She didn't care!" yelled Michael.

"I can't believe it!" Jane shouted.

"That one _always _worked before!"

Mary Poppins had left the nursery for a moment to return the fairly large toad she had found in her bed to the garden outside.

"And she was _talking _to it! Did you see that? She was having a conversation with a _toad!_"

Michael was becoming slightly frantic; this was getting ridiculous, and they were very quickly running out of material. It was now mid-afternoon, and all day they had been pulling prank after prank on Mary Poppins, only to find that they had no affect on her whatsoever. They were on the verge of giving up completely; if their best wasn't working, what else could they possibly do?

Their eyes wandered slowly over to her bed in the corner, where they eventually rested on the hat stand upon which her coat, hat, and umbrella were placed. It was an extremely odd umbrella—they had never seen any like it—and it, for some strange, unknown reason, beckoned to them. The idea occurred to them both immediately: they were going to initiate a little game of hide-and-seek in the park.

They took Mary's umbrella and hid in the kitchen until they were certain she had come back inside. They watched her through the crack in the door as she walked swiftly and quietly up the stairs, and, once they heard her enter the nursery, they bolted for the front door.

***

They ran down into the Lane, giggling as they went. Michael opened the umbrella and was twirling it around on his shoulder when the most peculiar thing happened. The wind suddenly picked up and he felt a massive tug on the umbrella, and it almost flew from his hands.

"Just let it go, Michael! It'll float away and she'll never find it for sure!" Jane shouted to him.

"I—I can't!" he yelled back in dismay.

The wind roared around them and it filled the umbrella and it slowly rose into the air, with Michael still hanging on.

"Michael!"

Jane frantically grasped his ankle, trying to pull him back to the Earth, but the strength of the wind was too much for her to challenge, and she, too, was promptly raised into the air, holding on to her brother's leg for dear life.

***

Now the umbrella had no power of its own, nor did Jane or Michael have any to speak of, so one may wonder exactly how this had occurred. If one looked carefully enough, one would have observed, barely visible through the curtains of the nursery window, the slim shape of Mary Poppins, glancing down at her misbehaving charges; a mischievous gleam in her eye and a knowing smile on her face. The wind would obey her every command, she knew, and it was time the children got a taste of their own medicine.

***

Jane and Michael had begun to hysterically call out for help as they both held on while the wind continued to lift them higher into the air. They had no idea what was happening, and it scared them senseless. They were drifting over the park and were just barely clearing the tops of the trees when they realised that the umbrella was getting lower. They began to sigh in relief until they saw what exactly it was lowering them onto.

The pond in the park was exceptionally muddy and not a very good place to go swimming. It seemed, however, that was precisely what the umbrella had in mind, because as soon as they were centered over the deepest part of the pond, the umbrella suddenly closed and Jane and Michael, with a half-terrified, half-thrilled cry, plunged into the murky waters beneath.

With a splash they hit the pond, and they quickly swam to the muddy bank, muttering crossly to one another. They were _never _bested, and, though they had no proof, they were almost positive that Mary Poppins had something to do with this. They looked up when they reached the path, and saw a solitary figure waiting for them, its foot tapping impatiently against the ground. They walked slowly up to her, heads down in embarrassment at their own failure, water dripping from every inch of their bodies and clothing. One of her eyebrows was raised in silent reprimand, but her eyes held the soft glow of amusement, though the children could not see it.

"Be kind enough not to touch my things, _if _you please," was all she said, the glow in her eyes increasing slightly.

"We're sorry, Mary Poppins," they replied quietly, finding that they could say nothing else.

"As you should be," she snapped. Her voice softened considerably then and a small smile pulled at her lips as she looked upon them. "Come, now, let's get you out of these wet things. You'll catch your deaths if you stay out here."

Her umbrella floated over to her and she caught it in midair.

"Spit spot!"

Jane and Michael ran ahead with Mary Poppins following closely behind, and they found, bizarrely enough, the clack of her boots on the pavement to be somewhat comforting. In fact, they found that they rather liked having her around; there was something about her, something that they couldn't place, that just made them feel a little better inside. _Perhaps she won't be so bad, after all, _they thought, smiles lighting up their faces.

Their thoughts drifted over to Mary and her brilliant smile grew, as well. _It's always the same_, she thought contentedly. _All it takes is a little magic._

Upon reaching Number Seventeen, the children rushed upstairs to get ready for their warm baths. Mary stayed in the foyer for a moment, the door still open, laughing quietly to herself as she watched Jane and Michael. They were certainly going to be a handful.

She glanced back at the open door and nodded, prompting it to swing shut on its own. The sparkle in her eyes intensified as she made her way toward the stairs. _A little magic, indeed…_


	14. N

**A/N: To the 75****th**** anniversary of the first Mary Poppins book being published! Thank you P.L. Travers, for writing these marvelous books, for allowing Disney to create the movie (however reluctantly), and for handing over the stage rights to Cameron Mackintosh; seventy-five years later and the story is still alive. :D**

**For my darling Elizabeth, because you were so anxious to read it, hahaha (and because you helped me out, yet again. My hero! :P) **

* * *

Name

_2009 London_

She sat leaning against the back of the bench, trying desperately to relax, but she could barely keep her annoyance from rising as she stared at the full-page advertisement in the morning's Times. It had nearly been five years now since the musical bearing her name had opened in London, and now it was touring 'round all of England; this particular advertisement was for its current engagement in Manchester, and Mary's hands began to clench almost against her will, crinkling the newspaper loudly in the quiet of the park.

She had come this afternoon to Kensington Gardens to clear her mind and had picked up a copy of the Times on the way, but it seemed that she would be getting no such relief from the calm surroundings of the lovely park. She let out her breath on an extremely heavy sigh and she groaned in discontent; she could already feel the stirrings of a massive headache coming on. _Heaven forbid it could leave me alone for once, _she thought gloomily. Her headache knew she wasn't talking to it, otherwise it may have had the courtesy to go away; she was referring to something completely and entirely different and a great deal more significant than a headache.

Her life had been in a downward spiral of sorts since 1964 and, quite frankly, even the ever patient and calm Mary Poppins gets tired after forty-five years of relentless exposure. Not to say, of course, that she disliked being Mary Alfred now—she loved her husband more than anyone else in the world—but she missed being herself; one couldn't really be Mary Poppins if she couldn't _be _Mary Poppins. _But this has nothing to do with being married, _she sighed to herself. _It's far more complicated than that…_

She gave up reading the newspaper and refolded it, placing it in her purse and closing her eyes, trying to get rid of her growing headache and do away with her anxiety; however, she was failing rather immensely at both.

Her eyes were still closed, but she could sense a group of women come walking down the path past her and sit a few benches away. Mary's keen ears could pick up every word they said, and she inwardly cringed when she realised what they were discussing.

"My husband and I are taking the kids to Manchester next week to see it," one of them said excitedly.

"John and I saw it with our Sophie when it was still here in London. Fabulous!" another answered.

"Leave it to Cameron Mackintosh and Disney to create something so magical," the third added. "Mary Poppins is such a great story."

Mary almost started laughing contemptuously right there in the middle of the park, but she had enough tact to know not to. _They have no idea, _she thought irately. _They have absolutely no idea._ She was getting upset again, so she subtly stood and walked away, her head now pounding behind her eyelids, leaving the women to their conversation and going in search of a quieter, more solitary abode.

***

She soon found herself on the other side of the Gardens, and she walked along the west bank of the Long Water, gazing at her reflection with unease. She was confused and frustrated and incredibly irritated, and she was becoming restless in her own skin, something Mary was not used to in the least. She let out a long sigh and sat down on a bench not far from the Peter Pan statue. It had been commissioned in 1912 by J. M. Barrie himself, and she knew the statue very well; she had often brought her charges to Kensington Gardens in her earlier nannying years, and while they were within the park, she would be sure to introduce them, to their delight, to the eternally playful Peter Pan. Now, however, she wasn't too happy with his childish exuberance.

"Peter, would you kindly stop playing that silly flute," she said impatiently, her forehead resting against her hands, thumbs tenderly massaging her temples. "I have a dreadful headache."

The statue suddenly moved and he brought the flute from his lips and looked down from his bronze tree stump to stare at Mary.

"Well, if it isn't Mary Poppins! At least, it's someone who feels like Mary Poppins. You look a little different." he said, his youthful voice lilting happily.

"Times change, Peter, and so do I," she replied softly.

She supposed he meant the fact that she now wore her dark hair down, but he was more perceptive than she thought him to be. He'd noticed that her glow had diminished; her voice had become less lively; the bright sparkle in her eyes had dimmed. He'd noticed that she was exhausted.

"It's been a long time since I last saw you," he said lightly.

"Indeed it has, and frankly it hasn't been long enough."

He hopped deftly off the stump and sat next to her on the bench, his bare metallic feet dangling a little ways above the ground.

"_Someone _is in an awful mood today," he smiled, trying to lift the conversation. "Is the eternally young Mary Poppins feeling a little old cantankerous, perhaps?"

"No, it's not that," she replied somberly, still gently rubbing her fingers against her aching head. "I'm just… frustrated, is all. This whole situation has been 'muddling up my thinking' as they said, for years now."

"What situation, exactly?"

She paused slightly and looked down at her feet.

"My name is everywhere," she said, upset.

"Is that a problem?" he asked. "One would think you of all people would _like _the attention."

She whipped her head around to glare at him, but regretted it instantly as it only served to make her headache worse. She covered her face with her hands and tried to ignore the throbbing pain.

"No, Peter," she said tersely. "I do _not _want the attention. And you still haven't gotten it quite right yet."

"Then do be blunt, Mary Poppins. I don't know what you mean."

She sighed and clasped her hands in her lap.

"My name is everywhere, and yet I cannot have it. There are people pretending to be me, and yet I cannot be myself." She looked down at the ground again, avoiding Peter's bronze gaze and lowering her voice. "I'm a myth," she said. "A fairytale. I feel like I don't belong here anymore."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, confused.

"It's a very long story."

"It's a good thing I have plenty of time to spare," he said sincerely.

She smiled at him and patted his head, ruffling his cold, shiny hair. She took a deep breath; bracing herself for the outpour of emotion she knew was likely to be forthcoming.

"Peter, do you know Pamela Travers?"

His brow furrowed in concentration and he smiled when he remembered.

"Yes, I used to see her around here occasionally a long time ago," he said. "She'd be talking with James sometimes. She was a stern, intensely private woman, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, that's Pamela," Mary chuckled a little. "Well, she wrote a book in 1934 about me."

"I know that," he replied.

"Yes, well, for a time it was tolerable. Certainly I got the odd look every now and again when someone found out what my name was, but after a few years it faded and everything was fine and I lived undiscovered. I may have had the name, but, so far as they knew, I wasn't the Mary Poppins they were so familiar with." She winked at Peter at that, he clearly aware of her magical nature. "Those times were good; Bert and I were together and happy and we were content to be with each other, regardless of the fact that people now knew our names."

"I can imagine how that might get a little tedious," he said sympathetically.

"Oh, well, it was _nothing _compared to the sixties," Mary said, a hopeless flash briefly appearing in her eyes. "For thirty years everything was wonderful, I still was able to do a little work here and there; caring for the children of the new generation—some of the parents who knew of me and others who didn't—but either way I was satisfied. Bert and I got married and we were exceptionally happy; I had always intended to keep my own name, so it didn't come as a shock to him when I decided to do so. And until 1964 that was not a problem."

"Oh, but 1964 is when the movie was released…"

"That's right," Mary sighed deeply. "That's when things got really terrible," she continued. "Everywhere I went, if my name was revealed, all heads turned to me and I was powerless under their scrutiny. There was never a time when I wanted more to be invisible, but was incapable of doing so. People always staring, their thoughts flying to me, they thinking 'well, she _kind of _looks like Julie Andrews' or 'that lady can't be serious' and 'her parents must've just loved those books;' and always the _whispering_—"

Mary abruptly paused in her tirade, realising that she had been getting louder and more passionate as she spoke. She placed her head in her hands again and resumed massaging her still aching temple.

"Bert and I eventually moved away from the city for a while; that's how bad it became," she went on. "We moved to the Lake District up north in an attempt to get as far away as possible. And of _course_ that's where Pamela had decided to make her home, as well."

"Did you see her?" asked Peter, his eyes wide with interest.

"I did," Mary replied. "And let me assure you, it was not the most pleasant reunion. I told her of everything that had happened since the release of the books and the film: I couldn't go anywhere with my name in public; I couldn't very well work as a nanny anymore, so I was out of a job—not that I needed one, of course, but it brought me joy and its loss was, and still is, a deep pain to my heart."

"What did she say?" Peter asked tentatively. He could tell that this part had not set well with Mary.

"She had the _gall _to quote Shakespeare to me. 'What's in a name,' she said. 'That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.' I don't think I'd even been more shocked. How _dare _she suggest I change my name! She _knew _how important my name was to me!" Mary took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "Apparently she believed that since _she _had changed _her_ name, it shouldn't be such a great matter of concern for me to change mine."

"But… but you're Mary Poppins," said Peter. "That's who you are."

"Yes," she replied sadly. "I know."

"So what did you do?"

He was now sitting cross-legged on the bench beside her, looking eagerly into her eyes.

"We waited it out for a while, Bert and I, and when we moved back to the city in the late seventies and the situation was still as bad as it had been, I did the only thing I could do."

"You didn't!"

"I had to, Peter. People thought I was crazy. I never got a moment's reprieve from the judgmental stares and the rumours and the pointing and the constant, never-ending sarcastic comments." She sighed into her hands. "I had no choice."

"I'm so sorry, Mary," he said, taking her hand in his and patting it empathetically.

"I took on Bert's surname as my own, which, of course is not bad, but it almost felt as though a part of me had slipped away. Bert really wasn't having the same problem that I endured; only the truly dedicated fans of the series recognised his name when he was alone, but together people instantly recognised Mary and Bert," she sighed unhappily. "He passed himself off as Robert for when we were together in public, and when he did that, the remarks, at long last, ended. When people asked our names, we were Robert and Mary Alfred, and no one knew the better; hiding behind these names we were finally safe; we were finally left alone."

Peter looked at her with shared sorrow in his eyes.

"I haven't been Mary Poppins for over twenty-five years. And now, with this pop culture explosion brought upon by that musical," she paused for a moment and took a calming breath, "it looks like I never will be again."

"Oh, Mary…"

His voice trailed away when they heard the sound of children laughing. The laughter was getting louder and they both turned their heads in the direction of the noise, and Mary saw through the trees a group of young children and their parents coming their way.

"Peter, there are people coming. Get back on your stump," she said hurriedly. "Go on!"

He nimbly climbed up to his plinth and stood atop it, saluting to Mary prior to returning to his customary pose, legs in stride and one arm extended upward, the other holding his flute. Before drawing the instrument to his bronze lips again, he winked at her and smiled.

"Don't be a stranger, Mary Poppins," he whispered.

"I won't," she said smiling, a fraction of the radiant light returning to her eyes.

She released him from her power and he ceased to move just as the families rounded the corner. The children happily congregated around the statue and the parents looked on at them cheerfully, reminiscing of times past when they themselves used to do the same thing. Mary felt a pang of jealousy at their openness and liberty, but she held her head high and fought back the onslaught of sadness that crept into her eyes, taking her leave swiftly and silently, her thoughts drifting back to when she truly was as free as the wind in the sky.

***

She returned home in a miserable haze, her headache having been replaced with sheer and intense fatigue. She'd never felt so weary, and all she wanted to do was have some warm tea and then submit to sleep. Mary was not wont to wear sweats, but in her current state of mind, she had no cares whatsoever of how she looked, so she quickly changed with a snap into something more comfortable. She was in no mood to wait for water to boil, however, so she snapped her fingers again and a steaming cup of tea appeared in her hands instantly. Delicately holding it, she made her way to the couch where she sat, her knees tucked up to her chest, the cup resting atop them, her bare toes peeping out from the hems of her navy sweatpants. She inhaled the hot scent of the tea and it warmed her heart and for an instant she felt a little better, but it almost immediately faded into nothing, and she fell into her thoughts once again. She took small sips of her tea, eyes gazing blindly across the room, and it was like this that Bert found her.

***

He hadn't heard Mary come in from her walk, so when he left their room to make some tea, his heart broke when he saw her. He'd never seen her look so incredibly dejected and downtrodden in his entire life, and, being over one hundred years old, that was a _very_ long time. He went over to her immediately, taking her tea from her and setting it on the table, sitting beside her and taking her hands in his own.

"Mary, sweetheart…"

She looked up to him and he almost gasped when he saw the hopeless look in her eye. He took her into his arms without hesitation and held her head against his chest, stroking her hair comfortingly as she wept into his shirt.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered into his ear, once her sobs had subsided. She sat in his arms for a moment, and then she rose from the couch, walking to the center of the room, and there was a lengthy pause. "Bert, who am I?" she asked, frustration and grief evident in her hushed voice.

He looked at her confusedly; trying to discern whether or not her question was truthful or a riddle.

"You're my wife," he began slowly. "You're my best friend, my eternal companion, and my dearest love."

"No, that's _what _I am, Bert. And you forgot 'pop culture icon.'" She sniffed disdainfully and crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her gaze from him to stare distantly out the window, holding back her tears. "I want to know _who _I am."

He suddenly understood and he made his way toward her and gently took her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. He looked into her deep blue eyes and she stared intrepidly back. He glanced down to her lips and her eyes closed as he covered her lips with his own. He held nothing back from this kiss; he made sure that it was instilled with every ounce of love in his body—every ounce of passion and assurance and promise was conveyed to her through his fervent kiss. Her arms had wrapped around his neck and his hands had moved to encircle her lower back. They broke only to breathe and in an instant he was pressing his lips relentlessly against hers once again, she returning his ardor completely. His mouth left hers and he trailed kisses along her jaw and her neck, and when he looked back into her eyes, he saw that their sparkle had returned and they were burning with an undeniable desire and flame, the very same, he knew, that were dancing in his own eyes.

"You're Mary Poppins," he said softly, "whether you use the name or not. And Mary, I have loved you for over eighty years, and simply because you can no longer use your name in public does not, by any means, suggest that I will suddenly stop loving you for who I know you are. The persona has become bigger than just you, and honestly, in the grand scheme of things, it is not the name that matters." He paused a moment to brush strands of her long dark hair out of her eyes. "It is the person behind the name. I love you for you, Mary; I always have and I always will. You will always have me by your side."

"I know," she said, and she placed a hand against his cheek, a small smile gracing her face. "But I so love it when you say my name."

"Mary Poppins," he whispered in her ear, one hand wrapped around her waist while the other was caressing her shoulder.

She laughed loudly and cheerfully as she moved her other hand to his cheek, as well, the unexpected sound of her musical laugh making Bert's heart swell with joy.

"I love you, Herbert Alfred," she smiled and she leaned up to kiss him again.

His nose scrunched up in mock disgust and he leaned back a little, avoiding her lips. He looked at her, eyes bright with a playful gleam.

"No, mine doesn't work so well as yours," he said. "Herbert." He drew out the first syllable emphasizing the R in an obnoxious, childish voice. "Unless you divide it into Her and Bert, in which case it could be like I am 'her Bert.' As long as the her is you and the Bert is me, and then people could say 'Look! He is her Bert!' and that would be you and me and—"

"Bert, darling?"

She interrupted him and he stopped his deliberate rambling, gazing mischievously into her eyes.

"Yes, dear?" he asked innocently, the teasing glint in his eye betraying the innocence of his voice.

"Shut up and kiss me."

He moved his face so that it was mere inches from hers and she felt his soft breaths on her cheeks.

"This century has done wonders to you, Mary."

"Oh? How so?"

"You're so much… fiercer."

"I'd suggest you stop talking and kiss me now unless you want to find out how fierce I can really be."

He came slightly closer to her and then reconsidered and gazed into her eyes again.

"What if I _do_ want to see how fierce you can really be?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the front of his pink polo.

"Bert, you're bloody hopeless."

She practically cut herself off as she crashed her lips against his unashamedly, clinging to him passionately as he returned her kiss with as much zeal and longing. They remained that way, standing in the middle of their living room, until lack of air forced them apart on a heavy sigh, her hands still gripping the sides of his neck and his gently resting on her hips.

"I'd forgotten how much I love doing that," Mary said, a radiant smile spreading across her face.

"It seems you've forgotten a lot of things," Bert replied.

"Yes… I think I have." She paused and looked deeply into his warm brown eyes. "I've forgotten to live."

He was drawn in by her luminous blue gaze and her lips were irresistible to him, and they soon found themselves blissfully lost in the world of their love.

The thought occurred to both of them simultaneously that perhaps it was a _good _thing she was not Mary Poppins anymore, because the woman pop culture believed Mary Poppins to be would _never_ be discovered kissing a man as uninhibitedly as she was now; and though Mary sincerely missed using her name… she was willing to let it go if it meant making these feelings stay.

She thought about it for a moment more and she smiled into Bert's passionate kiss. Being practically perfect was highly overrated.


	15. O

**A/N: For those of you who have read The Four Seasons, you may recall I wrote that Mary had watched Bert (unbeknownst to him) on the rooftops. This could be one of those instances, but _this_ time, she does not escape unnoticed... :)**

* * *

Observation

_1905 London_

Up where the smoke is all billowed and curled, a little-known world exists, just yearning to be explored. A trackless jungle, few are privy to its secrets; but those who are keep them dear within their hearts, guarding them from the rest of the world. One of the rooftops of London's most well-kept secrets was not an object or a fact, but rather a person. She was no stranger to the rooftops; for many years it had been a haven of sorts for her—a place where she could sit and think and be at peace—and to this day it continued to be so, though no one knew it save for the wind, the birds, and the stars.

Mary Poppins flew through the air, umbrella clutched firmly in her left hand, a serene smile stretching across her face. She had just left the most recent household she'd assigned herself to and her heart was soaring; they had found themselves and each other and had, at long last, reformed the bonds of love and family. This was what she lived for, and it brought her insurmountable joy to know that she was changing and mending lives.

She did not yet have a new post, so, for the meantime, she had decided to fly up to her favourite spot on the rooftops to relax and reflect. She loved the rooftops of London; they were quiet and soothing and they provided an atmosphere that was the perfect blend of shadows and light; the rooftops were safe to her, and they always welcomed her with open arms.

She alighted onto a large chimney and sat down on it, setting her carpetbag beside her and folding her umbrella upon her lap. She closed her eyes and took in the scent and feel of the night, and let out her breath on a long, contended sigh. She hadn't realised how tired she was; _this job takes a lot out of me, _she thought, _though it is entirely worth it_. A smile played about her lips as she glanced upward toward the stars. They were happy tonight, she noticed, but she could not discern why. The stars were excitable beings and they were often playing tricks on one another, so, perhaps, she thought, they were simply in a mischievous mood.

It was then that she heard a whooping sound coming from the opposite side of the complex of rooftops she was on. It was echoed by other cheerful voices, and she understood why the stars were so frivolous this night: the chimney sweeps had come out to play.

***

Bert returned the call made by his fellow sweeps with much enthusiasm; they were meeting on the rooftops for some good fun tonight, and he hadn't been more exhilarated for a long while. Herbert Alfred had been a sweep practically all of his adult life, but his experience around chimneys stretched far into his childhood. His father had been a sweep, too, and he had taught his son everything he knew. Bert was a jack-of-all-trades, really, and he could do anything he wanted, but being a sweep was the profession closest to his heart, so that was what he did most often; both to fulfill his need for excitement in his life, and to honour the memory of his dear father.

The rooftops were calm tonight, and the stars, he observed, were shining brighter than they had in a long while. He chuckled happily to himself; _perhaps they are as energised as I am._

He soon was reunited with some of his dearest friends, all of them shaking everyone else's hands for luck, as the old adage went, and chatting animatedly. They presently began their lively dance, and in no time at all, Bert had joined them and was laughing in amusement and high spirits.

***

Mary loved when the chimney sweeps would dance about on the rooftops. They were such a happy group of people, and their giddiness usually rubbed off on her; she never left despondent after watching them for a while.

There was one sweep in particular she would watch, however, whenever they happened to share this space for a time. She didn't know his name, nor did she know anything about him; all she knew was that there was something different about him that she could not, for the life of her, place, and sometimes it drove her to the deepest levels of frustration trying to figure out why she was drawn to him so. He was very handsome, yes, but she'd met plenty of handsome men over her years, and none of them had ever intrigued her as much as this stranger did. It confused her and thrilled her at the same time, but she did not know how to react or proceed. For now she was content to watch him from her perch on the chimney, and perhaps someday, she pondered, she would make herself known to him.

***

Something nagged at the back of Bert's mind and he had that spine-tingling sensation that alerted him someone was watching. It wasn't a nervous or foreboding feeling; it was comforting, as though someone was watching over him—keeping an eye on him—from afar. He broke from the dance and stepped off to the side, leaning against a chimney. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, taking in the tranquil ambiance that pervaded the air. That feeling still encompassed his mind, and when he opened his eyes again, they slowly wandered across the silhouette of the rooftops in the distance. He passed over a chimney, at first seeing nothing, but a slight movement caught his eye, and he immediately shifted his gaze.

There was a stunning young woman sitting on the chimney, though how she had gotten there and why Bert could not begin to guess. She was gorgeous beyond words; her dark hair was swept into a tight bun on the back of her head and she wore a form-fitting black coat that blended in with the darkness of the night. In stark contrast, however, her skin and eyes appeared to glow with the light of the stars, and for an instant, Bert would have sworn that he was looking at some mystical being from the fairytales of his childhood. He marveled at how he had possibly missed her there before; she was so bright and shining. She seemed to exude a certain warmth and it washed over him, despite being a good distance away.

His gaze lingered upon her for several moments, and he realised that she was looking back at him. Their eyes connected for a split second and he felt a massive rush go through his body and straight to his heart. He was taken aback and, as soon as he blinked, she was gone.

***

Mary continued watching him as he made his way from the rest of the group. He was leaning against a chimney, and to her, though he was covered in soot and ash, he was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She could feel the goodness within him radiating from his heart, and it only piqued her interest in him even more. For reasons unknown to her, she wanted to go to him and speak with him; to learn everything she could about him and spend time with him; she wanted to make him laugh, to comfort him when he cried, to call on him when she needed a friend. These thoughts dashed around her mind and they thoroughly bewildered her. _What has gotten into me? _she asked herself. _I don't even know his name…_

She suddenly felt his eyes on her, and she focused on his face. Their eyes met, and in that instant, an intense electric current ran through her and sent her heart pounding in her chest. She panicked, and shielded herself from his gaze, disappearing in the blink of an eye, her breaths quick and uneven from the myriad sensations running through her. She didn't understand; she had never felt this way before.

She took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart and mind and to shake off her utter confusion. She picked up her bag and opened her umbrella to leave for the night, taking a final glance in the chimney sweep's direction. He was gaping at her, or rather at the air, since she was invisible to his eyes. His shocked countenance slowly changed into a brilliant smile and she heard his thoughts, bringing a small smile to her own face. _Perhaps our meeting will come sooner than I thought…_

With that notion in mind, she raised her umbrella into the air and, unseen by the people below, Mary Poppins ascended into the starry night sky.

***

Bert stared at the empty air where the mysterious woman had been sitting, his brown eyes extremely wide and his jaw hanging open in astonishment. _Perhaps she is something from a fairytale, _he thought. He found himself wanting to see her again, and wishing that she would reappear out of thin air, just so he could get a better look at her. He wanted to remember her face forever, but the memory was already beginning to fade. Despite that, a large, luminous smile stretched across his face as he again leaned against the chimney, shifting his eyes away from the twinkling sky and back to his still dancing friends. He hoped with all his might that he would see the radiant woman again. There was something about her… something he couldn't place, but it warmed his soul and made him feel alive. His smile grew and, with a last glance at the space where she had sat not a moment ago, he rejoined his friends in their festive, carefree dance, eyes afire and heart aglow with happiness.


	16. P

**A/N: It was only a matter of time before I pulled the RMS _Titanic _out of my sleeve...**

**This is based on the actual shipwreck, _not_ the movie, haha.**

* * *

Premonition

_Wednesday, April 10, 1912 Southampton, Hampshire_

Bert walked arm in arm with his dearest friend, Mary Poppins, down the wharf at the shipyard in Southampton. It was an abnormally sunny day, and he took it as a good sign. She had the day off from her nannying today; she had requested her Day be moved from its usual Tuesday to Wednesday this week so she could accompany Bert, and the family she worked for had happily obliged. What she did not know was the reason for Bert's venture away from London, but she sensed that he was going to soon tell her, though a feeling in the back of her mind told her that she was not going to like the news he had.

He hid his emotions behind his smile, and he dreaded telling Mary what he had brought her here for. He'd lost his heart to Mary Poppins many years ago, but she had never expressed any emotions to him other than those of close friendship, and it pained his heart to stay near her knowing that his love was not, and would not be, returned. Because of this hopelessness he felt, and because nearly everything in England reminded him in some way of her, he had decided to leave the country of his birth and sail to America. He had bought a ticket for the steam ship RMS _Titanic, _the largest of its kind, and he would be departing today for the week-long trip to New York. He had asked Mary to come along so he could say goodbye, and so he could see her one last time.

When they arrived at the loading dock of the _Titanic_, they stopped and she looked up to get a better glimpse of the ship. Her eyes scanned the entire hull, and finally she turned to rest her gaze on him.

"There is something you wish to tell me," she said quietly, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "And I think I have an idea of what it may be."

"I'm leaving, Mary," he said quickly, thinking it would be better to just get it out than to beat around the bush with false reasons and words.

She paused and took a deep breath, her poise cracking for a mere instant, but she managed to hold herself together.

"I thought so," she replied sadly, looking away from him and down at the waves lapping against the ship.

"The ship leaves in a little while for America," he said.

"Which? This one?" she asked, gesturing with her gloved hand at the RMS _Titanic_.

"Yes, that one," he replied.

She gave it another inspection, more thorough this time, he could tell, and suddenly her eyes became unfocused and distant as she gazed at the ship, and he knew she was seeing something, though whether it was from the past or some unknown future, he did not know.

She abruptly snapped out of her haze and looked at him, eyes afire with a warning he could not ignore.

"Bert, I will not allow you get on this ship," she said forcefully, the glow in her eyes becoming fiercer.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, slightly perplexed by her change in behaviour.

"This ship is not going to make it to New York," she said, calm and clear. "It is going to sink in the middle of the ocean, and I refuse to let you step foot on it."

Now usually he would have believed her when she had premonitions like this; her foresight was rarely, if ever, wrong, but this time, though he knew not why, the notion seemed so ridiculous that he didn't give her concern a second thought.

"Mary, you're upset and you're overreacting," he said to her. "Everything is going to be fine. They say this ship is unsinkable."

She tried to protest, uneasiness beginning to creep into her voice, but he quieted her by taking her hands in his and squeezing them tightly.

"Please, you're only making this more difficult," he sighed and looked into her eyes. People were beginning to board the ship and they became suddenly aware of the sounds of the commotion around them. Her eyes held a strange melancholy, but he did not dwell on it. He was leaving, and that was that. "Until next time, Mary."

He gave her a light kiss on the cheek and turned quickly before she could say anything more. His bags were already stowed on the ship, so he went up to the ticket collector, handed him his ticket, and swiftly boarded the ship. His heart was pounding as though he had run a marathon, and he climbed up to the main deck where he stood at the bow, staring out into the crowd trying to get a last glimpse of Mary before she left.

He could not locate her on the ground, so he scanned the skies instead, and found her standing alone on one of the distant rooftops, and he could feel their eyes connect over the air. Her red coat fluttered in the cool spring breeze, and he could tell she was savouring this final moment, just as he was. He blinked for a moment, however, and when he opened his eyes again, she was gone, though he thought he could hear her sweet whispers remaining on the wind.

***

Four days passed and Bert could not get his mind off of Mary Poppins. It strayed to her every moment of the day, and he admitted to himself that he may have made a mistake in making this journey.

He sat at the stern gazing at the stars. It was very late and the temperature was freezing, but he couldn't help but sit out on the deck looking at their light and hoping that somewhere she was looking at them, too. He made to stand to go in for the night when his knees buckled and he fell backwards onto the chair. He heard a terrible grating sound and he rushed to the starboard side of the ship, and he gasped at what he saw. A massive iceberg was brushing up against the hull of the ship and, judging by the harsh, sickening noises that erupted from the contact, nothing good was to come of it.

Bert frantically ran to find a member of the crew to find out what was going on, and to see if he could help in any way, shape, or form. The sailor assured him that everything would be fine, and that they would be loading the lifeboats soon. Bert tried to calm his nerves and his mind drifted to Mary again. It seems she had been correct, and he found himself now wishing that he had heeded her words.

Hours passed and it was now early in the morning on Monday, April 15. Bert had been helping load the women and children into the lifeboats, trying to quell everyone's fears along with his own. The ship's bow was now entirely underwater, and Bert was starting to panic. They didn't have much time left.

Suddenly the ship gave an enormous pitch, and the stern began rise little by little into the air. He ran to the railing, the lights on the deck flickering and going out. Surrounded by darkness, Bert closed his eyes and prayed, and, with one last look at the stars, he jumped into the frigid waters below.

***

Mary tossed and turned violently in her sleep, images of the great ship hitting a massive block of ice preying on her mind and repeating as they had for the past four days straight. She wanted to scream, but she found she could not make a sound, and she could only watch as the ship steadily sank into the frozen waters of the Atlantic.

She awoke abruptly in a cold sweat, breathing heavily and sitting straight up in her bed, her head and heart pounding with fear. The children were in the other room and she had to remind herself to be calm and quiet; the last thing she wanted to do was alarm them. She stood tentatively, to fetch herself a glass of water, but as soon as she straightened up, her heart gave a sudden lurch, and she promptly fell back to her bed. The vision she'd been having for the past four days began before her eyes again, but this time, instead of being a far off observer, she was in the midst of the disaster looking down on the pale, barely alive face of her darling Bert, who was clinging to a piece of the wreckage floating aimlessly in the freezing sea.

Tears were falling from her eyes and flowing down her cheeks as the image faded and a determined fire lit in her eyes; she knew what she had to do. She left everything at her charges' home—she had all she would need within her. She took time only to change, and with a snap of her fingers she was set for travel in her long, black coat. She immediately stepped out of the window, floated in the air for a moment to close it, and, finally, she took off.

Mary Poppins had been flying most of her life, but she had never flown as fast as she did this night. This night she was faster than a speeding comet, long hair fluttering out behind her, soaring over the countryside with no concern whatsoever for the fact that, if someone looked closely enough, they could make out her racing form from the background of the stars. The wind was rushing in her ears, whispering to her words of encouragement, as were the moon and the stars. Nothing would dare stand in Mary Poppins' way tonight, and she had it in mind to utterly devastate anything that did.

The moon was nearly new, so she had very little light to guide her, but she had her heart, and that was all that was necessary. She quickly found herself over the ocean, the whitecaps mocking her, and she followed the pull on her soul toward the sinking ship.

***

Upon reaching the debris, the stars had begun to burn bright and steadfast to facilitate her search. She didn't care if anyone saw her; should she be discovered, so be it. Tears were in her eyes and her breaths were quick and uneven, and all she cared about was finding him. She hovered a few feet over the waves, darting this way and that trying desperately to locate the place she had seen in her mind. She could discern the desolation and destruction of the accident through the mist and it tore at her compassionate heart. She wished she could fix this catastrophe, but she knew she had neither the energy nor the ability to pull off something that massive.

Pushing those thoughts away she doubled her search, pursuing the slow, faint beating of Bert's heart that had now reached her keen ears. All of a sudden a large piece of wood came into view, and stretched haphazardly across its rough surface was none other than the freezing form of her dear friend, Herbert Alfred. Mary's tears were streaming down her face as she flew over to him, holding his icy hands within her own. She could feel the warmth leaving his body, and she passed some of her life force to him, drawing him close to her to share her heat. In her current state, she was not sure she could support both of them in flight for long, so she closed her eyes and held him tightly, summoning the last of her strength to surround them with an iridescent light as they were transported through space and time, back to her room at the comfortable home of her charges.

***

In a flash they appeared in her room, and she immediately placed him in her own bed, drying his clothes with a snap and tucking the sheets in around him. She pulled up a chair and sat by his side, holding his hand in hers and listening to his slow, laboured breathing, sending her warmth to him in increments, so as not to send his body into shock. As the adrenaline ceased to course through her veins, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion, but she did not give in to its influence. She would stay awake by his side until he came to, and she would never let him out of her sight.

***

Later that morning she spoke to the scullery maid, Evangeline, whom she had become fairly friendly with, and told her of her plight; leaving out the parts that would allude to her magical nature, saying instead that her dear friend had fallen ill and she needed to care for him, and imploring her to take the children for the day. Perhaps it was the hint of unprecedented desperation in her voice, or perhaps it was the slight circles visible beneath her eyes, but whatever it was, something moved Evangeline to comply with her request and she soon left, the children in tow, to run errands in the city.

As soon as the children had been pressed and dressed, she returned to Bert's side, watching his unconscious form with fear and hope. She caressed his mind with her own, sending him feelings of support and love, all the while keeping him warm and comfortable in her bed. She was never far from him, and she kept an eye on him at all times. Her thoughts raced through her head, she wishing that he had listened to her, that he had never stepped foot on that miserable ship, that she had forcibly made him stay, that she had not left as quickly as she had; wishing that anything had happened but what did, and partially blaming herself for allowing him to leave. She brushed her hand against his cheek and looked upon his still figure, eyes warm with love and devotion. _I've waited my entire life for you_, she thought tenderly. _No way will I lose you now…_

***

Bert slowly and painfully opened his eyes, at first alarmed that he couldn't recognise his surroundings, but upon seeing Mary's form with her back to him, his mind calmed and he lay down into the pillows. He suddenly remembered what had happened, memories rushing back to him, and his heart stumbled ferociously in his chest. _I shouldn't be alive, _he thought. _I should be dead drifting alone at sea. _His gaze rested on Mary again and he felt his eyes brimming with tears. _She saved my life. She saved my life…_

***

At first she didn't feel his eyes upon her, but after a moment his warm gaze washed over her being, sending feelings of love and concern rushing to her heart. She turned from the tea she was making over the crackling fireplace and swiftly strode over to the bed, taking her seat by his side, unbidden tears already running down her flushed cheeks.

"Bert," she said sniffling, holding his hand and trying to suppress her sobs. "Bert, how are you feeling?"

"I'm alive," he said simply and quietly, looking tenderly into her eyes. "All thanks to you. I should have listened to you, Mary. I'm so sorry."

She couldn't hold back her tears anymore and she collapsed on his chest, making an immense mess of his shirt. She attempted to recount to him how she had known of what had occurred, and how she had flown across the country and the ocean to find him and how she had brought him back here and how she had tended to him and how she'd never left his side. What he heard were a few disjointed words and a lot of sniffing, but he stroked her hair with his free hand and tried to soothe her beyond frazzled nerves.

She looked into his eyes and it was then that he got a good look at her. She looked completely drained, and before he could stop himself, he placed a hand against her soft, wet cheek.

"Have you slept at all?" he asked, worry for her wellbeing evident in his voice.

"Not since I left here to find you," she replied.

"Mary, you should've taken me to a hospital. You shouldn't have taken this burden upon yourself."

"I wasn't going to let you out of my sight, Bert. Not again."

He looked deeply into her eyes, confusion apparent in his creased eyebrows and expression.

"But… but why?"

Her radiant blue eyes took on a different glow then that he'd never seen before. He saw confusion there, along with anxiety, empathy, and the usual mystical spark, but he also saw, dare he say it, love.

"Do you not know?" she asked softly, the strange mix of emotions also present in her voice.

"I have only hoped," he said, taking her warm hand in his own.

"I love you, Bert," she said, never taking her eyes from his.

Relief washed over him and he sighed happily, sinking back into the comfort of the bed once more. He turned his head back to her and his eyes glistened with reciprocated love.

"Mary, I fell in love with you a long time ago," he said, caressing her hand still.

"And I, you," she said gently. "I should have told you sooner. I should never have let you get on that ship…"

Her voice broke and her tears began again, Bert wiping them away from her cheeks as they flowed from her eyes.

"Hey… hey, don't cry anymore; everything's alright. Mary, look at me. I'm going to be just fine," he said, reassuring her. "I was a damn fool." He looked down to compose himself before looking again into the depths of her eyes. "I will never leave you again."

"Promise?" she said, in such a way that it brought a small smile to Bert's face.

"Yes, I promise," he answered sincerely. "I am yours forever."

She leaned over him and placed a tentative, amorous kiss on his lips and he returned it, reveling in the passion of their love, it warming him to the very core, and he was overjoyed that they had finally found their way to one another at last. They pulled apart from each other, both smiling luminously, and she got up to bring the tea off the fire and to set it on her bedside table, two cups dangling from her graceful fingers. She poured the tea and handed the warm, steaming cup to him and he inhaled its comforting scent, gazing over the rim to look into her eyes. She smiled at him over her own cup, and winked, and together, they drank their tea in silence, thoughts drifting over the air to one another, taking down old barriers and opening to the other the deepest reaches of their minds, replacing their bond of friendship with one of true, unmistakable love.


	17. R

**A/N: Part of this is based loosely on a conversation I once had. I wrote this one more for sentimental reasons, so it might be a little OOC, for which I apologise. It's a bit on the heavier side, but reconciliations usually are, wouldn't you agree?**

**For a dear friend. Thank you.**

* * *

Reunion

_1920 London_

Mary Poppins and Herbert Alfred were overjoyed; they were to be getting married in a week, and they had never been more excited or happy in their lives. Mary, since she really had no home of her own, was living with Bert already, though they did not yet share a room, despite their hidden desire for it to be otherwise.

She was cleaning the kitchen and humming cheerfully to herself when he walked in carrying a small stack of letters, which he had retrieved from the mail carrier on the way home from his evening of work. He greeted Mary with a tender kiss, and he sat down at the table, flipping through the letters as he did so. His gaze stopped on one letter in particular; there was no post mark to be seen and there was no return address, either, save for the initials L.P. The letter was addressed to Mary, which was also remarkably odd, because no one knew she lived here except for her closest family and the few friends she had in the area. He scratched his head and looked confusedly from the letter to his fiancée.

"Mary?"

"Yes, dear?" she asked inattentively.

"There is a letter here for you."

"What?" She stopped what she was doing and made her way over to the table, standing behind the chair he was seated on and reading over his shoulder. "Oh, my…" she said, entering a slight state of shock.

"Mary?" he asked, his concern building.

She took the letter, saying nothing, and delicately tore it open, unfolding the white paper within. Her blue eyes grew wide as she read, and it almost looked to Bert as though she was going to cry.

"Mary, what is it?" he repeated. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," she said in disbelief. "It's just… my sister is coming to London for our wedding."

"You have a sister?" Bert asked loudly, wholly taken by surprise. She had never even mentioned that she had siblings before.

"I suppose you could say that," Mary said sullenly. "We haven't spoken in years."

"How long would you consider years?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, confused.

"Well, you measure time a lot differently than I do, Mary," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just I've known you for fifteen years and you haven't changed a bit. I know we haven't spoken about it, but I'm just a little curious." He hesitated when she didn't say anything, and then he slowly continued. "Exactly how old _are _you?"

She looked at him with trepidation for a moment, but then took a deep breath and sighed.

"King George was on the throne when I was born."

"Mary, George is King now. There hasn't been a George since 1830."

"I'm aware of that," she said. "And that was George IV." She paused trying to determine what his reaction might be, battling with herself whether or not to lie. She ultimately decided upon the truth; he had a right to know. "I'm talking about George I."

His mouth dropped open and he stared at her in wonder.

"I'll be celebrating my two-hundredth birthday this year," she said softly, averting her eyes from his gaze.

"That… that's incredible," he said, his mouth still hanging open in astonishment.

Neither said anything for a few moments and Mary's discomfort and self-consciousness grew.

"Does that upset you?" she asked quietly.

"No, no, not at all," Bert said, coming over to her side. "I knew you were old, but not _that _old."

That comment warranted a glare and a shove from Mary, and he laughed playfully. He gave her a quick, loving kiss on the lips and he pressed his forehead against hers. "Nothing could ever change the way I feel about you. You have to understand that, Mary. I love you and I will for the rest of my life and beyond."

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Bert."

"I know," was all he said, a cheeky grin on his face.

Her brilliant smile grew and she turned to finish cleaning.

"So, what is your sister's name, and how much older than her are you?"

"Laura," she replied, "and I am eight years older."

"Were you two very close?"

Mary paused again, her mind wandering back to a time long gone.

"We got along reasonably well, but we never really knew each other. We were different as night and day."

"Oh," Bert said. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright. I'm surprised she's returning at all, to be honest. She was always extremely restless here, and she left soon after her one hundredth birthday to go to America and, as far as I know, she has been there ever since. New York, I think, but if she's as transient as I was, then she really could be anywhere now." Her voice softened considerably and Bert could see a flash of regret in her eyes. "I haven't seen or spoken to her since the day she departed London."

"I'm sorry," he said again, sympathy written all over his face. "That's an unbelievably long time."

She smiled sadly and brushed her hand against his cheek.

"It's fine. She's coming back now, isn't she? We'll simply have a lot to talk about."

In fact that was one of the things Mary was most afraid of. Despite her calm exterior, on the inside she was dreading this confrontation more than anything in the world. She was nervous that she and Laura would have grown even farther apart than they were nearly one hundred years ago, and she didn't want this to be a tense or argumentative reunion; she just wanted to see her, make sure she was alright, and then maybe try to reconcile their past accusations and, hopefully, become friends as they once were all that time ago.

"What did that letter say if I may ask?"

"It said that the wind had told her of my upcoming marriage and that she would like to see me again and she would be in London soon for the wedding."

"Oh. She didn't say when she'd—"

A sudden knock on the front door answered Bert's unfinished question, and Mary's hands began to tremble a bit. She took a deep steadying breath and, with a swish of her blue skirt, she strode up to the door.

***

When the door swung open, Mary was immediately met with the image of her sister. She was dressed in a short, double-breasted red jacket, with a red sleeveless dress beneath that came up to just below her knee. She wore a matching hat in the current American style, and her bright hazel eyes were outlined with black liner, making them appear even brighter than they normally would, but otherwise, she looked very much the same as Mary had remembered her.

"Hi, Mary," she said shyly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Hello, Laura," Mary said, her tone quiet. They stared at one another for a moment, the tension palpable, and then Mary remembered her manners. "Please, come in."

She moved to one side to allow Laura to pass her, and once she was inside, Mary promptly closed the door.

"So where's the lucky man?" asked Laura, and Mary noticed that her former English accent had entirely vanished.

"That'd be me," Bert said happily, joining the women in the hall. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Laura."

"Likewise, Mr. Alfred, likewise," she said, shaking his hand amiably.

"Please, I'm going to be your brother-in-law. Call me Bert."

She smiled as he led her into the drawing room where all three sat down to an evening tea. Mary poured out while the two talked. _She still has that ability to immediately settle in with new people, _Mary thought with a smile.

"So how did you meet my sister, Bert?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story…"

He went on to tell every last detail of their meeting in 1905, Mary piping in when he forgot something; how they had become close friends and how they had, eventually, fallen in love, and the years they spent not knowing of the other's feelings. By the time he ended the story, and by the time the chatter it stimulated had died down, it was late and time to retire for the night.

"At the moment we don't have an extra room, I'm afraid," Bert said. "I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch down here."

"Oh, not to worry. We Poppins women are rather resourceful," she laughed with a wink, and Bert joined in.

They parted ways, Mary and Laura exchanging a slightly awkward glance and a smile. She and Bert made their way upstairs, arm in arm, and, before turning in to their separate rooms, shared a long, heartfelt kiss in the hallway.

***

Laura on the couch downstairs felt their love radiating from above her, and she smiled. She was exceptionally happy for her sister; she had found a wonderful man who would give her everything she could possibly want. She sighed and hoped that one day she would be as lucky.

Laura snapped her fingers once, a folding bed appearing on the floor beside the couch, along with the large red leather suitcase she carried her possessions in. She rapidly changed and took the pins from her hair—a lighter brown than Mary's—and lay down, pulling the sheets up over her. She was happy for Mary, true, but she was somewhat dreading the conversation she knew they were going to have. She wasn't sure she wanted to relive their past just yet… but she knew she couldn't avoid it. She fell into a tentative sleep, images of their childhood playing behind her closed eyes.

***

In the middle of the night, Laura awoke with a start. Feelings of intense fear and melancholy nearly suffocated her, and she could sense from where they were coming. Mary had never been the openly emotional type, so this turn in her attitude was exceptionally surprising and a matter of great concern to Laura.

She silently crept up the stairs and took a peek into Mary's room. She was sitting on her bed, her head in her hands, and she was doing something Laura had never seen her do before; she was crying. Laura opened the door and shut it quietly behind her and stood in front of it, looking at Mary.

"Alright, Mary, tell me."

At the sound of her voice, Mary immediately stopped crying and wiped her tears away, drawing herself up and becoming the strong, collected woman she was wont to be.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Please, Mary, you can't fool me. I could feel your anxiety all the way from downstairs." Her voice softened and she moved to stand in front of her. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Mary's tears began to spill over her cheeks again and she was ashamed of herself for showing such emotions to her sister. Against her better judgment, Mary found herself wanting to tell her everything, and the words left her mouth before she could stop them.

"I can't do it."

Laura resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead placed a hand against her forehead in frustration.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Mary, are we really going to start with this again? I won't deal with this right now, not when I just arrived. How many times must I tell you? You can do anything; I've seen you. Whatever it is that you think you can't do, please, rethink that and _then_ talk to me."

Laura turned to go back downstairs when she heard her sister's quiet, and tremendously disconcerting, reply.

"I refuse to let him die alone," Mary whispered. "When he goes, I will go with him."

"I'm sorry, what?" Laura asked, turning back around to face her. "You're not insinuating that you—"

"I've tried everything, Laura, but I can't do it! You don't think I've tried desperately to make him as we are? Nothing has worked… so I see no other option."

"No," Laura said forcefully. "No, that will not happen. I won't allow you to do something so stupid."

"Excuse me—"

"No, excuse _me_ for a moment. Mary, you are my sister. I love you more than any other person in this world," she laughed bitterly to herself. "I know it may not seem that way from all I have put you through and all the time I've been away—"

Mary had begun to protest.

"No, it's true. I was terrible when we were young. Well, younger," she said with a quiet laugh, but her voice quickly became serious again. "We were always at each other's throats and I must've worried you far more than was necessary, and I left as soon as I possibly could, and I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am for hurting you, but being away from here and from you was good for me, I believe. I changed; my entire outlook on life changed. I found my own way and my own self and I really found out who I was.

Mary, life is worth living, especially with the great things you do; and I know this is trite, but it's true: it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. You've found perhaps the greatest love there is and you will have it for a time, but as you often used to say, all good things come to an end. You knew full well what falling for a mortal entailed, and yes, you will have pain, but you still have a choice, Mary."

She stopped for a moment to collect herself.

"You have a choice to either continue living as Bert would want you to, learning to deal with your pain and to take from it to make things better, or you can take your own life, causing immeasurable pain for all who love you and taking away from the world that spark you hold. I don't mean to be cold, but that's the honest truth, Mary. You have to understand, as much as I love you and I don't want to see you do this to yourself, I cannot make this decision for you. I cannot begin to comprehend your mind, but please… " she paused to rearrange her thoughts and heaved a great sigh. "… I love you. That's all I'm going to say."

Mary sat dumbfounded staring at her sister, whose clear hazel eyes unflinchingly stared back.

"Obviously your tendency to go on tirades hasn't diminished with time," Mary whispered with a smile, looking down at her feet. She gazed into Laura's eyes again, her own sparkling with love and appreciation. "Were you always this insightful?"

Laura moved from the middle of the room and sat beside Mary on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close in a loving embrace.

"Yes, you just were too perfect to notice." She laughed a little and looked into her eyes. "I've missed you, Mary."

"I've missed you, too, Laura." She paused. "You really meant it when you said you needed to get out of here. I didn't believe you," Mary laughed. "You certainly proved me wrong."

"Now _that _is something rarely achieved," Laura smiled.

Mary laughed and looked at her dear sister again, sincerity glowing in the blue depths of her eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

Laura shrugged it off, pulling Mary close for a big, warm hug.

"What are sisters for?" she replied.

"Annoying their older sibling, leaving her for America, barely keeping in touch, and then coming back out of the blue one hundred years later to give her a much-needed kick in the behind?"

"Well, when you put it that way…"

Their laughter erupted and they stood together, past grievances silently forgotten or forgiven, and both looking forward to renewing a relationship long lost to distance and time. They would have eternity to mend their bond by working together, and it was then that a sudden thought occurred to Laura and she glanced over at Mary, a smile on her face.

"Are you _sure _you've tried everything to make Bert immortal?" she asked.

Mary sighed and looked down at her feet, sadness and failure creeping into her eyes and countenance again.

"Yes, I'm sure. I've tried everything I can think of. It's futile. I'll just have to learn to cope like you said."

"No, Mary. I think you have forgotten one thing," she said excitedly.

"Oh?" she asked, incredulity written on her face, though Laura could hear a hint of hope in her voice. "What's that?"

"Maybe you need the power of two Poppins for this one," she said gently, holding out her hand for Mary to take.

Mary's gaze met Laura's and she grasped her sister's hand tightly in her own. The connection was instant, and they could feel their magic strengthening even at that mere touch. They smiled to the other and closed their eyes, skin already beginning to tingle and glow with a soft, sparkling light.

***

The following morning, Bert awoke to the smells of toast and eggs frying drifting up from downstairs. He changed into his work clothes and made his way down the stairs, taking a glimpse into the drawing room before heading into the kitchen for a hearty breakfast. His eyes rested on the neatly made folding bed and suitcase and he smiled. _They are more similar than Mary thinks they are, _he thought with a laugh.

Upon entering the kitchen, he saw Mary and Laura working together to make breakfast and tea. His smile grew immensely; the awkwardness he had sensed between them the evening before had dissipated and all he could perceive now were ease and love in their interactions. He was happy they had somehow begun to overcome their differences, and he sat down with his feet comfortably resting on the table.

"How do you feel this morning, Bert?" Laura asked, closing one of the cupboards that had been left open in the hustle and bustle of breakfast-making.

Bert opened his mouth to answer with a quick and polite fine, but he stopped himself. He hadn't noticed before, but now that she mentioned it, he felt great. In fact, he felt better than he could ever remember. When he told her as much, both Laura and Mary turned around to look at him.

Laura was beaming and Mary almost cried out in joy when she saw his face; his deep brown eyes were glowing with the same ethereal light that dwelt within her own, and she could feel the warmth of eternal youth shining in his heart.

"What is it, Mary?" he asked, thoroughly confused at her odd reaction.

"Nothing," she replied happily, making her way over to him and placing a passionate kiss upon his lips. "Nothing at all."


	18. W

**A/N: I've had some fairly restless nights lately. Perhaps my lack of sleep is getting to me…**

**This contains some references to the farewell kiss scene in the musical. It is also maybe-kind of-not really related to chapter O. A little. Maybe. :P**

* * *

Wakefulness

_1910 London_

The stars shone brightly through the curtains of Bert's bedroom window and their light danced across the wooden floor, casting the room in a soft, delicate glow. He lay in bed, the covers pulled comfortably up to his neck, his chest rising and falling slowly as if in sleep. Looks can be deceiving, however; his eyes were wide open and he gazed distantly ahead, not really seeing the dark beams above him. Staring at the ceiling had developed into quite a disconcerting habit as of late, and sleep was becoming more and more difficult to come by as the days passed; and he had a rather good inkling as to why. It was all her fault.

Whenever he closed his eyes, her face was what he saw. He saw her smile and her radiant blue eyes and sometimes he would almost feel her hand in his, but he would always be jarred back to reality only to find himself alone in the dark. She haunted his dreams and his every waking moment, and now so more than ever since the day she left the Banks' house. She had kissed him that day, and he hadn't been expecting it in the least. When her lips had briefly touched his cheek, his heart had tumbled in his chest, and it had taken him every ounce of strength in his body to steady it once more.

_Ha_, he thought sullenly. _If you can call the mess I am steady. _It had been a month since that day and she had departed for a new job as she always did, but something about this time was different. Every time before he had been able to let her go from his mind, but this time…

He shook his head and sat up in bed, allowing his feet to dangle over the side with his hands resting on his thighs. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, and placed his feet on the cold floor, wincing slightly as the chill ran up his legs. _This time she never left_, he thought, standing and walking toward his closet. There was no way he was going to sleep tonight, he knew, so he quickly dressed and made a pot of tea, sipping it slowly with his brow furrowed in deep thought. After finishing, he carefully climbed out the window and onto the rooftops, swiftly making his way to one distant roof in particular, where he would settle down against a chimney and watch the golden sunrise, thinking about none other than his lovely Mary Poppins.

***

Mary lay in bed gazing at the white ceiling above her. She had not been sleeping well this past month, and tonight it felt as though she would not be sleeping at all. She sighed and closed her eyes tightly, trying to will herself into dreams, but they would not come. She knew precisely why she wasn't sleeping, too, and it only served to bother her even more: she couldn't get him off her mind.

_I shouldn't have kissed him_, she thought, inwardly berating herself for the thousandth time. _This is all because of that impulsive, reckless, stupid, wonderful kiss. _She sighed again deeply and remembered how it felt to have his soft cheek against her lips, and the current that ran through her at the contact; partially from the immense love she felt for him, and also in part due to the thrill of going against her own rules of propriety. She shook the memory from her mind and sat up slowly, leaning against the headboard as she placed her head in her hands and massaged her temples. _This cannot continue for much longer_, she mused, trying to focus away from the longing that was ever-present in her heart. _I cannot live with myself torn in two…_

She looked over at her still charges, their breathing soft and low as the lay fast asleep in their beds. She then absentmindedly checked her small clock and creased her brow in thought, deciding whether or not this course of action was wise. Apparently it was, because she quickly left her bed and changed, throwing on her skirt and blouse._ I'll be able to make it back before I'm needed. Yes… I have plenty of time. _She was fastening the silver buttons on her blue coat when she saw the eyes of her parrot-headed umbrella staring haughtily at her from across the room. She narrowed her eyes at it, but its wry glimmer did not subside.

"Oh, don't you start," she whispered, so as not to wake the children. They had had this conversation regarding her feelings for Bert earlier in the month and up until this point, she had resisted the parrot's suggestions. Though now she fully realised that it was true, she did not like admitting defeat. She sighed as she pulled on her gloves. "You were right; I love him."

"And now you're going to him," it said matter-of-factly, its eyes still gleaming with amusement.

Mary sighed again in exasperation and slight impatience.

"Yes, I'm going to him. Now please remove that smug look from your eyes before I do, thank _you._"

The green parrot did as it was told and the life immediately faded from its black eyes, but not before it could flash her what seemed to be a rather arrogant and self-satisfied smile. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the umbrella before carefully and quietly opening the nursery window. She stood on the outside sill for a moment more, closing the window behind her, and gazed out into the starlit night, taking a deep, steadying breath as she opened her umbrella and stepped into the air. The wind caught her instantly and she gracefully rose into the sky, invisible to those beneath her, and she drifted on the currents toward a single roof in London, where she would sit atop a particular chimney and pensively watch the sun peek its rays over the eastern horizon.

***

Bert clambered onto the rooftop just as the soft glow of dawn mingled with the darkness, tinting the sky with its rose-gold hues. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the air was strangely fresh and clear; he had been around Mary long enough to know precisely what that meant. His eyes eagerly scanned the skyline, and when they finally rested on a certain lone chimneystack, he sighed in both relief and surprise. Her silhouette was unmistakable, and she was impossible to miss, as her body in and of itself seemed to glow with the light of the new day. He was not so much surprised to see her in this place than he was that he could see her at all. He knew she came here often, perhaps as often as he did, but he also knew that on the occasions she sat down on that chimney to think, she rarely allowed anyone to perceive it. She usually concealed herself in some form or another—for privacy or simply as a force of habit, Bert did not know—but at this moment she was visible to any and all eyes. His heart pounded and hope rose in his chest as the thought occurred to him: she _wanted _to be seen.

He slowly made his way toward the chimney, careful not to make a sound. When he reached it, he stood beside her tranquil form, she still gazing blindly ahead beyond what he could see on the horizon, and he could only imagine to what world her mind wandered.

"You couldn't sleep either, eh?" Bert asked amiably, his cheerful voice resounding in the hush of early morning.

_How could I possibly sleep when you are all I see behind closed eyes? _She turned and looked down at him, pushing her thoughts away, with a beautiful smile on her face that brightened all her features.

"I knew you'd be here," she replied.

"That doesn't really answer my question," he chuckled.

"My presence should be answer enough," she said with a small laugh. He nodded in agreement and took one of her gloved hands as he led her down from the chimney so she could stand beside him.

"You came an awfully long way just to watch a sunrise," he said quietly, still holding her hand loosely in his. She was silent for a few moments and she looked into his warm eyes.

"I came for more than just the sun."

Her blush was immediate and it spread rapidly across her cheeks, and she shifted her gaze from his eyes back to the horizon, though she maintained the contact between them.

"I hoped you would be here, too," he said, grasping her hand a little tighter. He smiled and followed her gaze out to the east. "Do you remember when we first met here?"

"How could I forget?" she asked, grateful for the change of subject. "You completely covered in soot making your way over the rooftops; whistling for the entire world to hear and catching me by surprise."

"I startled you? I find that rather hard to believe."

"I may not have shown it… but I was not expecting anybody else to be up there at so late an hour."

"It was rather late at night, wasn't it?" He paused and a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "What _were_ you doing out, if I may?"

"Thinking."

"About what?" he asked.

"Nothing in particular, really," she replied. "But you managed to interrupt my thoughts, anyway, when you plopped down beside me with your cheerful conversation." _And who could resist the light in your eyes and the incredible charm in your smile…_

"I wasn't about to let a lady sit on a roof all by her lonesome," he said with a boyish grin. _Especially not one as incredibly beautiful as you._

"I know," she said, dropping her hand from his and turning to him with a lovely smile. "And I am exceptionally thankful for your kindness. I was glad to have your company." _And I still am._

Their voices faded and they sank comfortably into their memories briefly, both smiling at the recollection of their first meeting in this very place and their subsequent meetings as they grew closer and closer to one another in friendship and love.

"It's odd to think that was five years ago," he said quietly, pulling himself from his memories. "It hasn't seemed like that long at all."

"Yes; time certainly flies, doesn't it?"

Mary's voice trailed away again and Bert did not answer; their thoughts were racing, and they knew they were both avoiding the real reason of their wakefulness and her coming to this place. An incredibly oppressive silence descended between them and they awkwardly glanced at anything but the other; she was looking at her shoe as she tapped it inaudibly against the shingles, and he had stuffed his hands in his pockets and was anxiously gazing above at the quickly fading night. Their hearts ached, and Bert could not take the unbearable stillness much longer; it was time to address the burning question in their minds.

"There's been something I've been meaning to ask you," he said, at last breaking the pervasive silence.

"Oh?" she asked, her heartbeat quickening slightly in her chest.

"A month ago… when you left…"

She could tell where this was going at once and they both knew it had to be discussed; though she had not seen the look of shock on his face when she had kissed him that night, she had felt his astonishment radiating from him in waves. She knew he had almost stopped her; almost reached out to take her hand when she turned to leave, but he did not. He had let her go. _He has always let me go, _she thought.

"You want to know why I kissed you."

Bert nodded slowly and looked at her, trying desperately to keep the hope from his eyes.

"Yes."

Her blush slowly returned and she looked away from him again.

"I wanted you to know that I would miss you and…" she paused and took a deep breath, "… and that I care about you."

Without fully realising it, he brought his hand up and placed it beneath her chin, gently turning her head toward his so he could look into her eyes.

"I care about you, too, Mary," he said softly. Her eyes flickered with a longing he had never before seen, but it was quickly concealed behind her calm mask once more. He lightly tipped her head upward somewhat so that her eyes were level with his. "You don't always have to hide behind your image, you know," he whispered. "A little spontaneity—"

She cut him off with a passionate kiss and his response was instant and equal; her hands were on his chest and his had already wound around her waist, and months, if not years, of suppressed desire and love poured out from their hearts. He pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss, reaching up one hand to caress her cheek. When they broke to breathe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled sheepishly, a pink tinge creeping yet again into her cheeks.

"You were saying?"

"Just that a little spontaneity never hurt anyone," he said breathlessly, though his smile lit up his entire face.

"I think that was fairly spontaneous."

"And long overdue," Bert added. "For both of us."

She sighed blissfully with a smile and gazed into the depths of his eyes, her own bright with adoration and the light of the now rising sun. "I love you, Bert."

His heart swelled and he beamed with joy as he took both her hands in his.

"I love you, too, Mary. I will always love you."

"And I, you," she tenderly replied. "Forever."

He drew her into his arms and they stood in the other's embrace, lips locked once more in an avid display of love and devotion. When they broke the kiss, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she nestled comfortably into his side, and they turned toward the east in content anticipation. The sun began its journey through the sky as it slowly continued to rise over the horizon, casting its golden glow over the rooftops of London. It drenched the couple in its warmth and light as they stood happily together on their singular rooftop; the place where it all began, and the place they would never, for the rest of their lives, forget.


	19. Y

**A/N: Yearning - ****full of longing or unfulfilled desire. Key word? Unfulfilled. Teehee. This one is rather… hmm… different, I suppose; and rather long. I kind of got carried away. And please bear with me on the obvious parallels… I feel like this topic has cheesiness embedded in it no matter how it is approached, haha.**

* * *

Yearning

_1964 London_

Mary Poppins lay in her bed unmoving, staring at the ceiling as she had for the past few days. A little over a month ago her best friend, Herbert Alfred, had died, and, though she knew it had been inevitable (he had been quite old, after all), she could not hold back the tears and heartache that came with his passing. _But it wasn't inevitable, _she thought mournfully. _If we hadn't been so dense… he wouldn't have had to die. _She took a deep breath to calm her hidden nerves. _And neither would I._

In her grief mortality had found her and, though she retained her youthful appearance now as she had for time untold before, the countless years she'd spent upon the earth had finally caught up with her spirit, and the light in her eyes had all but faded away. She had never felt more utterly helpless and spent, and she let out a weak sigh as she again fell victim to her weariness, bringing forth the regrets of her life in full force. She blamed herself for her sorrow; _of course, _she thought, _he was to blame as well, but the fault is mostly mine. If only I hadn't been so horrendously selfish…_

She had always put her duty before anything else; and by the time she realised that she could never be truly happy without him by her side, she had been too late. Though he had not moved on and found another, he had stopped waiting. He no longer turned expectant eyes toward the sky, nor did he go looking for her; he had lost hope, and thus she had lost him. So in a final twist of irony, when she tore down the wall between them, it was he who skillfully built it up again. They had remained great friends, but there had been a dull ache whenever they were together, and, though they never spoke of it, they both knew why; and, in another act of foolishness, they never attempted to alleviate it, despite it being their most heartfelt desire to do so.

Mary knew dwelling on the past would not make her death any less imminent, but she could not keep her emotions from their bonds. She could not stop the memories from flowing; the numerous wonderful times she had spent with him—the moments they had spent alone when their love was so palpable, but so incredibly far from being realised. The woulds and coulds and shoulds of their relationship again seemed to taunt her mercilessly and a single tear slowly formed in the corner of her eye, but she did not have the strength to wipe it away. _Look what I have become_, she thought remorsefully. _I am but a ghost of my former self…_

She closed her eyes to check her tears and she almost dared death to take her. She had nothing left in this world, and she could not wallow in self-pity for much longer. A shiver ran up her spine and she closed her eyes tighter against the chill, and she gasped inaudibly when she suddenly felt her power being awakened within. Colours swirled before her eyes as she was granted one last vision; she saw broken images of a couple who looked uncannily similar to her and Bert, but they were younger, less reserved, and, it seemed, deeply in love. A glimmer of hope entered Mary's misty blue eyes as the vision faded from her sight, and her lips turned slightly upward in a faint smile. _There is a chance for us still, _she thought. _There is a chance…_

She could feel her strength waning and she glanced at the window out into the warm summer night. With her final breath and the last of her power, she wished urgently upon the brightest star in the sky.

"Don't allow them to be like us…" she whispered, the swiftly dimming glow in her eyes both hopeful and heartrending. "Please… don't let them be like us…"

And with that desperate plea hanging in the air, the light in her eyes finally went out, and Mary Poppins—after years of longing and anguish—died of a broken heart.

***

_2009 London_

A cool breeze wafted in from the open window and the white curtains fluttered slightly, the sweet smell of the early summer morning drifting through the air. Sealed cardboard boxes where everywhere, and at first glance, it would seem that the room was a dreadful mess, but the new owner of this house knew better. _Organised chaos_, she thought with a smile. _Everything will be in its proper place in time._ The owner, twenty-eight-year-old Meredith Page, had moved into the house less than a week earlier, though she was no stranger to it. She had grown up in this house—Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane—and she was now returning to the roost for the first time in ten years, though she wished it were under better circumstances. Her parents had unexpectedly died somewhat recently and, as their only child, had left everything to her. She had been unwilling at first to move back into her old house—it was too soon, she'd thought—but she quickly realised that it was what her parents would have wanted, and, to be perfectly honest with herself, it's what she wanted, too.

They had bought the house when she was a baby from an elderly woman, Georgia Banks (she had been named for her grandfather, she'd always proudly said), who had no children of her own to pass it to. She stayed in the home with them for quite a few years before she passed away and she became almost a second mother to little Meredith. She had been a fairly eccentric woman with bright, smiling eyes, and she had a rather marked propensity toward hyperbole and spoiling Meredith rotten. Georgia had spent most of her days contentedly telling Meredith stories of all the adventures that had occurred in this house; stories that her father had told her when she was a child. Meredith had eagerly absorbed every single one, and after the old woman had died, she'd made her own quests and tales with Georgia's as her inspiration. She sighed happily; being in this house again after so many years brought back those fond memories with a rush that sent a nostalgic tingle down her spine.

"It's good to be home," she said to herself, her smile widening and her bright blue eyes glowing with happiness. "Perhaps I _did _stay away too long."

She rolled up her sleeves and placed her hands on her hips, surveying the room strewn with boxes of all sizes; her entire life packed away in Styrofoam curls and cardboard. With a shrug and a sigh she swiftly pulled back her dark hair and began opening the box closest to her. _This is going to take a while…_

***

As evening began to fall, Meredith arranged the last of her unpacked possessions within the house, her belongings mingling with those of her parents. After squeezing the final book into the already crammed shelf, she collapsed exhausted into the large armchair by the fireplace. _Well, at least I got that out of the way, _she thought. _Now I can rest…_

She got up and made her way to the kitchen in the back of the house; it was a cheerful blue colour and it had an inviting atmosphere, but, more often than not, Meredith had the odd feeling that the room hid some kind of secret. She could swear that the bells above the door jingled on their own sometimes when someone entered the room. As she stepped over the threshold she glanced warily at the bells, though they did nothing but shine in the glow of the overhead lights. She smiled at her old habit and continued over to the sink, filling the tea kettle with water and placing it carefully on the stove. She leaned against the counter as she waited for the water to boil, her mind again drifting back to childhood events that had taken place in this very room. When the pot announced that the tea was ready, she carefully poured herself a cup and sipped it slowly, her eyes scanning the room warmly in nostalgia. After a few more minutes, she downed the last of her tea and washed out the cup, quickly putting it away in the cupboard. Meredith turned toward the door and reached for the knob, but when she turned it, the door would not budge. She stared at it, perplexed, and tried again, but still had no luck.

"This _can't _be serious," she murmured, running her hands through her hair in exasperation.

She tried pulling on the door again with more force, but to no avail; it simply would not give. She sighed in frustration and defeat and took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. _I will have to call someone to come and fix this tomorrow, _she thought. _Let's just hope that it's the last of this old house's problems._

Luckily, Meredith knew of the other exit in the room; there was a way out in the broom closet that led outside, and she was thanking her lucky stars that she hadn't already locked up the house for the night. The broom closet door swung behind her as she groped in the dark for the knob of the other door. When she found it she let out a small, triumphant laugh, and she pushed it open and stepped into the night, heading around the house to the front.

The night was quiet, and had she strained her ears or lingered a moment more, Meredith would have heard the tinkling of the bells above the kitchen door, giggling merrily as the lock on the door undid itself. Its mischievousness had been awakened by her presence; and the house, it seemed, was excited to see her back. Quite excited, indeed.

***

The next morning Meredith awoke refreshed and ready for what she could already tell was going to be a very long day. Upon making it down the stairs and into the drawing room, she dug through one of the few unpacked boxes still left sitting on the floor, searching for a phonebook so she could call a repair service. When she pulled the large book out of the box, she sat down at the table and casually flipped it open.

"Hmm," she said, looking down at the page with a smile. "How convenient."

The book had flipped open directly to the section of home repair businesses, and her eyes quickly scanned the addresses for the ones closest to her. Her gaze stopped on one in particular: a self-owned business, Allen Repairs and Restorations. He wasn't out of the way, nor was he the closest; but there was something about the name that seemed oddly familiar. She shrugged it off and picked up the phone. _Mum and Dad probably used the service before, _she thought, lightly dialing the numbers while still glancing at the yellow pages. After speaking to the woman on the other end for a few moments and scheduling Norbert Allen, the man who owned the business, to come out to the home in a few hours, Meredith put the phone down and began unpacking the remaining boxes. _I suppose I should make myself and this place look somewhat presentable for when this guy comes, _she thought, pulling a colourful glass vase cushioned in paper and bubble wrap out of a box. _I wouldn't want to look too much like a slob._ She unpacked one more box before heading upstairs for a shower, all the while musing as to where she had seen Norbert Allen's name before.

Little did she know, but Norbert Allen, in his office on the outskirts of the main center of the city, was thinking the same thing. When he'd returned from his morning job, his secretary had handed him his next appointment; a door needed fixing at Number Seventeen, Cherry Tree Lane, the home of a Miss Meredith Page. He'd sat at his desk, the paper in hand, staring at the name intently, trying to figure out how he recognised the name. He was fairly certain that he'd never met the woman before, and he could not remember ever doing business with anyone with the name Page.

"Odd…" he quietly said to himself, setting the paper down on his desk.

With a final glance at the sheet, he kicked off his shoes and leaned back in his chair for a quick power nap before leaving for Cherry Tree Lane. He soon fell into a peaceful sleep, his breathing soft and low; dreaming strangely familiar images of a bright red kite dancing gracefully against a white sea of clouds.

***

Meredith had just finished arranging a bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers in the glass vase when she heard the doorbell ring. She hurriedly straightened her pink, polka-dotted sundress and glanced at herself in the nearby mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she gave a slight nod and strode to the door. She was not quite sure what she had been expecting in this Norbert Allen fellow, but it was certainly _not _the visage that greeted her on the front stair.

He was quite young and, she thought with a slight internal blush, quite attractive. He had stunning brown eyes and a cheerful, extremely charming smile. She mentally shook herself out of her haze when he spoke.

"'Ello," he said amiably. "Are you Miss Page?"

"Yes, that's me," she said, moving to the side of the door. "Please come in, Mr. Allen."

"Ah, please, Miss. Call me Norbert."

"You may call me Meredith, then," she smiled, shaking his hand when he it offered to her.

They awkwardly glanced at the other for a moment more, dropping their hands as he turned and shut the door behind him.

"So, where is that door that needs fixing?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she said quickly. "Over here; follow me."

Following her toward the kitchen, Norbert couldn't help but give her a surreptitious once-over. She was a beautiful woman; her dark hair was pulled back and up, a few tendrils neatly tucked behind her ears, and she had the most incredibly bright, lovely blue eyes he'd ever seen. He shifted his gaze from her to the door when they reached it and he stood beside her.

"Here it is" she said. "Last night it wouldn't op—"

She cut herself off when the door easily opened when he turned the knob, her jaw dropping and eyes widening in a look of complete and utter shock.

"It seems fine to me," he said with a slight grin. Usually he would have been annoyed, but her look of genuine surprise and confusion made him believe that she hadn't just made a stupid mistake.

"But… but…" she stumbled, placing one hand on her hip and the other intertwined in her hair. "How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure," he joked, smiling. "Maybe the house is toying with you." The bells above the door tinkled slightly in knowing laughter, but neither Norbert nor Meredith heard them. "Well, let me give this a look, anyway," he said, walking into the kitchen. "It _is _an old house; maybe I'll find something that could use repairing."

He inspected the room carefully and after half an hour of searching and friendly chatter between the two, he decided there was nothing to be done.

"I'm so sorry for your trouble," Meredith said as they walked back into the foyer. "I don't know what happened."

"It's alright," he said. "Not to worry. But if you ever _do _need anything done, give me a call."

He fished around in his pocket for a moment, finally drawing a business card out and handing it to her.

"Thank you, Norbert. I apologise again—"

"Really, Meredith, it's ok." He smiled and nodded. "Have a good day."

"Thanks. You, too."

The door closed behind him, and as he walked back to the company van and she walked inside toward the kitchen, they released the breaths they hadn't realised they were holding. Neither had mentioned the strange sense of déjà vu they had both felt in the other's presence; it was something they could not explain, for they were quite aware that this was their first meeting. The feeling greatly intrigued them, and he grinned to himself as he started the car to return to work, hoping that he would have a reason to come back and see this woman again.

Meredith smiled at her reflection in the hall mirror, patting her hair and straightening her dress. Behind her the erratic flickering of a light caught her attention and she narrowed her eyes at its image in the mirror. Her smile grew, however, and she almost wished the light would break, if only to bring Norbert Allen into her house once more. _Maybe this house is toying with me, _she thought. She turned and glared at the light again and the flickering stopped, and she smiled. _That's better, _she thought. _Much better…_

***

Five days later the lights went out. Slightly annoyed and more than a little frustrated, she took Norbert Allen's business card from her desk and called. He was soon back at the house and hustling about, checking the wiring and lights throughout every room. They made plenty of small talk, Meredith following him in his work as he moved from room to room; and they were both exceptionally taken aback at how comfortable they felt around one another for only having met once before. She watched him work intently, and felt somewhat surprised at how skilled he was, and she said as much.

"I learned everything from my father," he replied, a proud glint in his eye. "And my father knew a good number of things."

"You're rather young to be going at this all by yourself, aren't you?"

"It's a family business," he began. "When my father passed, I took over management, just as he did for his father before him." He stopped briefly what he was doing and gazed up at her, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. "You're rather young to own a house like this, aren't you?"

"On a teacher's salary, yes," she laughed. "But my parents left me the house and everything they had, so I think I'm set for a while, at least."

"You teach?" he asked, returning to his work.

"Yes, primary school. Eight-year-olds," she said with a laugh. "They're always an energetic bunch, I must say."

"Ah, so that's why you're home," he said. "Summer holiday."

"Mmm-hmm," she confirmed. "Though what I'm going to do with myself, I'm not quite sure. I never made any plans for when I finish moving in entirely."

"You could break more things in your house."

She gave him an even glare and he put his hands up in retreat, his charming grin stretching across his face.

"Good choice," she said, laughing as she turned around to put together a proper tea for the two of them; and he returning to his work once more, his smile widening at her delighted gasp as the lights flickered on.

***

The third time she called him—a week later, no less—the pipes had burst in the upstairs bathroom. A week after _that _she called him a fourth time because the banister had cracked and nearly collapsed. And yet another week following that incident, she called a fifth time so he could fix the warping, very unsteady bookshelves in the study. With every moment they spent together, they grew slowly closer; talking candidly and comfortably for reasons unbeknownst to them.

The sixth time the phone rang, the roles were reversed; he had called her, and she could hear him fumbling with his words on the other line. After numerous deep, calming breaths, he gathered up his courage and nervously asked her out to lunch. Her smile was immediate and she was certain he could hear it in her voice; there was only one way she could answer him:

"Yes," she said. "I would love that."

***

That lunch date was followed by another, and another, and yet another; and they soon learned the other's schedules (she tended to follow a strict agenda, while his was fairly unpredictable). They always managed to find time for the other, and whenever they were together, sparks seemed to fly. Any passersby who saw them would have thought they had known each other far longer than they actually had, and they themselves felt it all too potently. After a couple weeks of meeting for lunch every other day, Norbert asked Meredith out to dinner. He picked her up from her house and they were soon sitting at a white wrought iron table on the patio of a nice and rather quaint restaurant in the city, talking animatedly over a glass of post-meal wine and the sounds of the London night.

"What made you decide to become a teacher?" he asked.

"You know…" she began. "I'm not quite sure. For as long as I can remember, it is what I wanted to do. I love children and I love helping them learn." She smiled happily at the lighthearted conversation. "What did you want to be when you were younger?"

"I always wanted to be a famous artist," he said, beaming. "And though I don't see that happening any time soon, I still keep at it. I have a room in my apartment full of paintings and sketches." He shrugged. "It was a great dream, but that's all it was."

She grinned and gave him a reassuring look.

"You never know…" she said. "Anything can happen."

He laughed and nodded, returning her smile with an appreciative glint in his eye.

"I'll have to show you my work sometime. Then you can deem whether or not it's Royal Academy-worthy."

"That would be great," she said sincerely, her smile widening. "I'd love to see it."

He smiled back at her and after a moment his brow furrowed in thought.

"I never understood how teachers do it," he said pensively.

"Do what?"

"How do you manage to watch those kids go year after year? Don't you grow to love them?"

"And what would happen to me, may I ask, if I loved all the children I said goodbye to?"

Her voice was light, but he could sense the distressing seriousness hidden within it.

"That's hardly an answer," he said with a small smile.

She sighed and grinned back sadly.

"It's very difficult sometimes. I found out long ago that you have to brace yourself for that; you can't become too attached otherwise it can be incredibly painful." She paused and looked into his eyes, her left index finger rubbing absentmindedly against the rim of her glass. "But yes. I do love those children, despite knowing that they will leave."

"You have a very kind heart," he said, his gaze still meeting hers.

She blushed profusely and looked down at her hands, a bashful smile tugging at her lips.

"Thank you, Norbert."

"I mean it," he said, taking one of her hands and holding it lovingly within his own.

"I know you do," she replied with a smile, leaning across the table to place a light kiss on his cheek. The rush she felt from that brief contact made her heart skip a beat, and her blue eyes sparkled in the night. _I've never felt this way about anyone before, _she thought. Her mind almost stopped as the notion occurred to her; _I… I think I love him… _she marveled. _What has gotten into me? I've only known him for a month and a half, and yet—_

Her thought was interrupted with a sudden flash before her eyes. She shook her head and the light immediately faded, but something within it had left an imprint on her mind, though she could not sense what it was. What she _could _sense, however, was the massive headache that was forming in her temples. It was a strange headache—unlike anything she had ever felt before. It almost felt as though something was trying to get out of her mind, but was not strong enough to break from its restraints; and this bizarre feeling served only to puzzle her more.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his concern for her wellbeing evident in his voice and eyes.

"Yes… I'm fine. Just a little dizzy is all. Headache."

He pulled an old watch out of his pocket—his grandfather's, he'd said—and frowned when he saw the time.

"It's rather late," he said softly. "And with your headache, you should get some rest. Come on; let me get you home."

For a moment she protested, but eventually gave in to his gentle kindness and sincerity. He drove her home and walked her up to the front door, where they stopped and turned toward one another, hands clasped tightly in the other's tender grasp.

"Thank you for dinner, Norbert," she said softly, glancing down at their clasped hands with a smile. An incredibly strong spark coursed from his body to hers, making her even more dizzy, and she withheld a quiet gasp. She had the intense sensation that something like this had happened before (déjà vu was becoming an ordinary occurrence for her lately), though she knew for certain that it had not. She raised her eyes to meet his once more and he gazed at her in confusion.

"It's so strange," he said tentatively, "but I feel like I've known you all my life."

"I'm feeling the same thing," she whispered back. "I don't know how it's possible… but this seems so familiar…"

He placed a hand gently against her cheek and she leaned into his caress, placing her own hands against his chest. Her bright blue eyes connected with his warm brown ones and his hand moved down her cheek and beneath her jaw, drawing her face closer to his.

"How do I know you?" he murmured against her lips, an electric current racing through them even at the slightest contact.

"I don't know," she softly replied, her eyes fluttering shut as she closed the remaining distance between them.

His lips gently pressed against hers and she responded immediately; and in that very instant of their first kiss her headache disappeared and the barriers of their minds collapsed. Flashes of a time gone by exploded within their memories and they saw what had once been, all those years ago. They saw themselves, but they weren't themselves… they were older, wiser-looking, and yet there was a longing about them so great that it tore at their hearts. They saw glimpses of their past in vivid colour; parks and rooftops and clear blue skies; clouds and stars, umbrellas and brooms; and the curled, ghostly wisps of billowing grey smoke. They saw the yearning in the eyes of their predecessors and they abruptly realised why they had felt so incomplete all their lives; their souls had unfinished business in this world, and it was now up to them to complete it. They suddenly pulled back and gazed into one another's eyes; hers sparkling with a mysterious new light and his glowing with an intense warmth.

"I remember…" he said in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper. "I remember you, Mary Poppins."

She blinked and nodded slowly, still coming down from the shock of the visions.

"Yes… that's who I was. A long time ago," she began quietly as more and more memories were revealed to her mind. "And I remember _you_, Herbert Alfred." She paused and her mouth was pulled into a small smile. "I loved you."

"I loved you, too." He replied, placing his hand against her cheek; a handsome grin of his own matching hers. "And as I loved you then, I love you now, Meredith Page. Though, I must say… I am having some slight difficulty believing that it's really you… that we've come together again after all this time…"

His voice trailed away and looked on at her in awe and devotion, her gaze meeting his unwaveringly with as much fervor and warmth. Between them passed a mutual understanding and love, and they knew now that this was meant to be—had always been meant to be. They realised that there was no going against fate; and they had found true love at last.

She leaned up and pressed a deep, passionate kiss on his lips, expressing her feelings to him better than words ever could.

"We made terrible mistakes then," she said, alluding to their shared past, "and somehow we have been given a second chance." She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head toward his ear. "I have no intention of wasting it."

His hands moved to her waist and he held her close.

"Neither do I."

She smiled into his shoulder and stepped back from his embrace, taking him by the hand. With her other hand she brought out a key from her purse and unlocked the door of her home. She ushered him inside and as soon as she had flipped on the lights and unceremoniously dropped her things on the nearby table he had backed her against the wall, kissing her earnestly and passionately; making up for the years of lost time their souls had endured. She sighed and kissed him back fervently, basking in the strength of the fires alight in their hearts.

The door closed slowly behind them, and it shut with a click that resounded in the silence of the night. The brass number seventeen on the door glinted in the half-light of the night, almost winking in response to the faraway stars. It glowed with the reflected light of one star in particular; the brightest star in the sky shone with a strength unlike any it had previously. It had kept its promise to its dear friend, and it intended to keep watch on this couple for as long as it could; silently nurturing, and making sure that they never went astray again.


End file.
